


Killing Eve, With Benefits

by KellyJade



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Inspired by 'Friends With Benefits' Movie, Killing Eve Season 4 But Instead it's a Romantic Comedy, Yes I am serious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:40:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24781693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KellyJade/pseuds/KellyJade
Summary: Set two weeks post Killing Eve Season Three; this season's newest Summer Romantic Comedy!After learning some shocking news, Villanelle convinces Eve to move to a new city and accept a big new job, while Villanelle deals with her own complicated history and past. Meanwhile, the two new friends (for lack of a better word) decide that adding a physical aspect to their relationship will work just fine and not get complicated at all.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 56
Kudos: 360





	1. Russia?

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I have to explain myself because I'm doing something very strange.
> 
> This is:  
> Killing Eve Season Four, but inspired by the romantic comedy Friends with Benefits, starring Justin Timberlake and Mila Kunis. (Credit where credit is due!)
> 
> There's some adjustments and set up to be done to link up the stories, but I do believe it will work out and be both deeply weird and very funny, which is The Dream.
> 
> I will acknowledge that some plot things (particularly spy/spy organization stuff), will not be accurate and may be quite unrealistic... but luckily this is a rom com and the spy stuff is truly not the point!
> 
> You don't at all have to have watched Friends with Benefits to read this, although I actually do love that movie.
> 
> So without further ado here is Chapter One!

**LONDON**   
**WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON**

Eve sits cross legged on her bed, staring out at the window, where the rain is beating an incessant drum on the glass, blurring her view of the outdoors.

 _Tap tap tap tap tap_. The rhythm of the rain is actually kind of calming. Better to focus on that than the catastrophic shit storm that could be coming down on her at any second.

'Don't think about that,' Eve reminds herself.

It's tough to not think about.

A week ago, Carolyn had spared Konstantin's life and instead killed Paul, apparently a high ranking agent for the Twelve. Eve had stormed from the room and had run to Tower Bridge, followed by Villanelle.

They had talked. Tried to walk away from both each other and from the mutual chaos following the two of them like a shadow. 

Eve chuckles under her breath. They had made it oh... about a hundred metres.

She shifts on the bed, remembering Villanelle following her home in silence, remembering throwing her bag on her armchair and Villanelle hanging up her big yellow coat on the hooks Eve never uses.

The two of them were really good at avoiding the difficult bits of conversation, Eve reflects now, thinking back to it while she watches the rain. They had managed to agree at least that they were both not okay with being apart at this particular point in time. They would join forces, in an attempt to not be murdered by any number of suspected or unknown third parties.

Which does seem like a pretty important priority right now, honestly, Eve thinks. Maybe she and Villanelle can talk about that other stuff later on.

The mutual, twisted, unquestionably addictive obsession with each other stuff. And maybe the completely untalked about kissing on buses stuff.

Eve feels a nervous twist in her stomach.

'Don't think about that,' she tells herself firmly again.

And so all that leaves Eve with this: an unhinged former boss, no husband, no job, no chicken. A murderous organization lurking vaguely in the shadows. And essentially only one phone number in her cell that she feels she safely use.

As Eve watches the rain, that very cell starts buzzing, and a quick glance at it shows the number in question. The call display reads 'V'.

She's never picked up a phone faster. "Villanelle," she says urgently into the speaker. "Where are you? You were supposed to call like an hour ago?"

A voice comes through the earpiece, static not masking the clear note of irritation. "There was an issue with the tube. Eve, public transportation is horrible."

"I apologize on behalf of all London," Eve says hurriedly, rolling her eyes. "Listen, where are you? Did you... get what you needed?"

It is Wednesday. Eve's task for Wednesday, they had agreed, was to stay put. She had also taken it upon herself to watch the rain.

Villanelle's task for Wednesday had been to break into MI6, get access to everything Carolyn or Paul had touched in the past six months, and steal it.

"WoOow you are excellent at being subtle," comes Villanelle's voice, the smirk almost audible.

Eve grits her teeth with frustration. "I'm about to be excellent at whooping your ass."

There is a delighted sounding snort of laughter. "I cannot wait, Eve." And then a sudden influx of background noise on the line - Villanelle seems to have entered somewhere busy.

"Where are you?"

"The airport," comes the reply matter of fact, as if this answer makes any iota of sense at all. "You can meet me here - we are going to Russia."

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that, I thought you said -"

**HEATHROW AIRPORT**   
**WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON**

The first thing Eve does when she sees Villanelle is whack her firmly on the shoulder with her bag.

"Don't make people go to the airport!"

Villanelle does her very best to look affronted but just can't hide the amusement on her face. "Eve, did you just hit me with your purse?"

"Don't make people go to Russia!" Eve adds furiously, before taking a second to catch her breath. Her irritation has been building for the entire rushed trip to the airport, caused by threat of Villanelle advising she would just leave by herself if Eve didn't make it. "Why on earth are we going to Russia?"

Villanelle pauses for a long second before sucking her front teeth with her tongue, and then swinging a backpack off her shoulder, unzipping it and pulling out a manila folder, crammed with documents. She shoves the folder meaningfully at Eve.

Eve snorts. "You have a backpack?" She takes the folder.

The blonde points a finger at her, a very serious look on her face. "Backpacks are a very useful accessory. Read the folder. Especially interesting bits there at the front."

Eve opens the folder and reads the front page. 

Oh no.

"Oh no," she says out loud, her mouth very dry suddenly. "Can I get some water?" She flips through two more pages. "Oh Jesus no. Water. Now." A water bottle is shoved into her hand and she takes a long drink. 

"Not good, hm?" says Villanelle.

No. It is not good.

The folder contains some of what are clearly Paul's documents. From his computer, desk, whatever. Eve doesn't bother to ask how Villanelle got into this stuff (perhaps better not to know), but it clearly shows that Paul had definitely been working for the Twelve. It had plans - Eve flips through and finds the order to kill Mo, Carolyn's assistant. She flips a couple pages and finds orders she recognizes from the past. Diplomats, wealthy activists, killed within the past couple years. 

However the first page in the folder was not from Paul's desk. It was from Carolyn's, and it's the same stuff. But worse.

Bigger, more senior orders. Orders for massive corporate takeovers, high powered assassinations of political figures, orchestrated bankruptcies, stock market directions... 

Obviously Carolyn's orders. Obviously for the Twelve.

Printed on MI6 letterhead, addressed to names Eve recognizes as Carolyn's bosses.

She takes another long drink of water. "The Twelve have completely infiltrated MI6," she whispers in disbelief, as she looks up towards Villanelle.

The blonde tilts her head, grimacing a bit. "Ah... it actually looks to me that MI6 _are_ the Twelve."

That sentence hangs in the air like an anvil for a moment.

And then Villanelle brushes playfully against Eve's shoulder. "But see, turns out we were working for the same people all along. Isn't that funny?"

Eve stares at her, feeling like all the blood in her body has been drained out. "I'm going to hit you with my bag again in exactly one second."

Villanelle takes a big step backwards. "Would you like to visit the airport bar?"

"That's better."

**AIRPORT BAR**

Eve takes her second shot of whiskey and Villanelle makes a face. "That smells horrible."

"You smell horrible," grumbles Eve sulkily, before hearing a devastated gasp and quickly backpedaling. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding! Sorry, sorry, I'm just coping with the fact that my understanding of life, my country and my values are crumbling down around me."

Villanelle sniffs loudly, still aghast. "You had better be." She shakes herself a bit and then shrugs airily and takes a drink of her seltzer. "I smell amazing." She glances sideways over at Eve and nods, raising an eyebrow. "You should remember that, Eve."

Eve waves at the bartender, motioning at her empty shot glass. "I'm going to ignore that comment right now because I'm having a crisis, but possibly I'm going to hit you with my bag again later."

Villanelle watches another shot come and watches Eve very quickly drink it. "That is fair." And then she waves at the bartender herself. "Listen, bring her a ginger ale? We are getting on a plane in twenty minutes."

Eve looks like she's just been hit over the head with a club, remembering that pivotal piece of information. "Oh my god, that's right." She fixes Villanelle with a glare. "Why are we going to Russia? We're not really going to Russia are we?"

Villanelle meets her gaze. "We are definitely going to Russia. Listen." She shifts her body to face Eve and lowers her voice. "So okay, we have just learned some disappointing news about Britain and MI6."

" _Disappointing_?!?"

"Yes, yes," says Villanelle, and she makes a waving motion with her hand and does not seem nearly distressed enough about this. "Very bad news, we are sad. But remember - what did we talk about after the bridge? What is the plan?"

Eve frowns. "Ughh, um... Staying... alive?"

Villanelle points at her in affirmation. "Staying alive! Yes. We are sticking together, okay, and we come up with a plan to do this without dying."

Eve is still frowning, shakes her head slightly. "Look, I'm with you there, but I just don't see why we have to flee the country." She breathes out slowly and bites her lip, looking tentatively across the airport. "I mean, are we that important? Sure, turns out things are rotted, but are they really going to come kill us? What have we done?"

Villanelle's gaze flickers over to the bartender, who is still busied with another customer at the other end of the bar. "Eve, we keep murdering all their people."

Eve scoffs. "Not that many! Who did we murder?"

"Well, they probably have not forgotten Raymond, and of course I killed their accountant's wife which they did not like at all, and then there was Dasha which you remember... and oh Rhian, I did not tell you about that yet, but -"

"Okay shh!" Eve hisses at her. "Alright, understood, we're toast." She sighs. "Why Russia?"

Villanelle takes a casual sip of her seltzer, and then she turns to look Eve plainly in the eye. "You are going to get a job with the FSB."

A glass of ginger ale clinks down on the bar in front of Eve, and she looks at it, then back at the bartender. "Can you put some whiskey in that?"

**FLIGHT 415 TO RUSSIA**   
**MID AIR**

Eve stares out the window, down at the clouds. 

She remembers this afternoon, when it was the window of her apartment she was staring out of, looking at the rain. A simpler time.

"Eve?"

She sighs, and closes her eyes briefly before leaning back in her seat, and moving her head to face Villanelle in the aisle seat next to her. The plane is fairly empty and they are pretty secluded at the back. The situation is ideal for plane travel in general, because no strangers are crowding them, and no babies are wailing in their ears. What is not so ideal for Eve is three hours of listening to Villanelle trying to convince her to join the FSB.

"I'm really not going to do it," Eve says for the billionth time. "I got on this plane with you but I seriously think we need to find another destination after this one. This is an insane plan, Villanelle." She studies the blonde's face. "Do you realize you're being insane?"

Villanelle makes a small noise of dismissal and rolls her eyes. "People throw that word around a lot," she says. "It's not insane, it's perfectly practical."

Despite the staggering seriousness of the whole situation, the corner of Eve's mouth twists in a slight smile. "Do you think that maybe people throw that word around a lot with you for a reason?"

Villanelle elegantly ignores that. She holds three fingers up, and then points with her other hand to the first one. "I have arguments. One: Our problem is that the people trying to kill us have ultimate power, and the hold of a massive intelligence organization. What better than to utilize another massive, powerful intelligence agency to combat them?"

Eve is not entirely impressed with this. "Why do we have to take them down, again? Carolyn said it herself, it's impossible to bring down the Twelve. And you agreed!"

"Carolyn is a senior member of the Twelve, of course she wants you off her back. And I agreed before I knew that. Plus, we don't have to bring them down, we just have to get some protection for ourselves. And fighting power aside from literally only you and me."

Eve sighs. "Okay, have that one. Go on."

Villanelle points to the second finger on her hand. "You have past job experience in intelligence. And we have found a great amount of vital information here that they will be overjoyed to work with." She then gives Eve a really very sincere look. "You are good at this espionage thing, Eve. Believe it, I have watched you."

"Watched me from outside my house in the bushes," grumbles Eve.

"I'm serious! You are smart. You find the things that others miss."

The dark haired woman is quiet for a second, and then points a wary finger at her companion. "Don't think that you being all sweet and complimentary is going to convince me." She ponders for a moment and then adds begrudgingly. "Although it helps a little."

Villanelle grins. "Noted. So?"

Eve lifts a hand to tap absentmindedly at her lips, thinking. "I don't know, it's a fair argument, I guess." She glances over again at the blonde. "Why not you? You could be a spy, right?"

Villanelle shakes her head immediately. "Absolutely not. If we are going in for a job interview we have one shot. You are a skilled agent with work experience and an actual resume. I am an escaped convict, from a Russian prison, I might add. I am also supposed to be dead and I have been murdering people for hire for my entire adult life."

Eve clicks her tongue. "Yeah, that is a truly terrible interview speech."

Villanelle smiles slightly and searches Eve's face. "You are making jokes - I get my second point?"

Eve waves a hand in concession. "Sure, sure. Okay, points one and two you get. But listen, I have a counter point." She fixes Villanelle with a serious look. "I don't want to work for the FSB. It's not my dream, and I know that sounds really stupid, but if we need an intelligence agency, there are other places we can go. Russia is really never where I saw myself, you know?" She chews on her lip for a moment. "And if we're really starting over here, shouldn't we start now? Somewhere we really want to be?"

Villanelle nods seriously. "Eve, I get it. Believe me, I have my own..." a darkness moves briefly over her face, "issues with Russia."

Eve frowns, wondering whether to press this. "Yeah," she says carefully. "I kind of noticed that."

Obsessing over someone for a year, you pick things up.

Villanelle is silent for a further second, and then speaks again. "Yes. But we are talking about you for now. And so." She points to her third finger. "I am going to convince you that Russia is where you want to be. Yes, I have my issues with it... But it is a certain type of home." Her eyes glint and she smiles. "Give me one night. We land tonight, we get a room and sleep. Do some research tomorrow on how we could reach the FSB. Tomorrow night though - I will prove to you that you want to stay."

Eve lets out one long breath. And then... "Fine. One night."

**MOSCOW**   
**HOTEL ROOM**   
**THURSDAY EVENING**

"I am calling it. Relax, Eve!"

"Put down that phone! Put it down!"

Eve and Villanelle face each other, each standing on either side of a hotel bed. Villanelle grins, a phone to her ear. Eve has an expression on her face that is somewhere in between murderous rage and blind panic.

"I will _end_ you, you impossible menace," hisses Eve as she registers Villanelle has already dialed.

Villanelle holds a finger to her lips, a mock concerned expression sliding onto her face. 'I'm on the phone,' she mouths as a voice picks up in her ear. "Yes, I'm looking for Vlad?" she chirps brightly into the receiver.

Eve slumps onto the mattress, recognizing defeat. "We're going to die in this hotel room," she says resignedly. 

"Yes, I spoke to someone earlier," Villanelle continues, acting as though she didn't hear this (she definitely did). "Yes - Eve Polastri. She is sure you will remember her -" she effortlessly ducks a pillow that has been thrown at her head. "Exactly, yes. How is tomorrow, 10:00am? That is perfect, she will be there." She lifts the phone from her ear and taps happily at the end call button. 

Eve sits up urgently, fixing Villanelle with a demanding glare. "What did you do?"

Grinning, the blonde flops herself onto the foot of the bed. "I got you an interview! You're welcome, by the way."

"You called Vlad!" exclaims Eve, indignant. "Literally the last interaction I had with him was to betray my THEN boss to get the information I wanted. And I'm interviewing to work _for_ him?"

Villanelle brushes this off, waving a hand airly. "It is the FSB, sordid betrayal is practically a prerequisite," she remarks. And then she looks excitedly to Eve. "And now - you promised!"

Sighing, Eve chooses to let the Vlad situation slide for now. After all, she knows Villanelle will be good to her word - if Eve isn't fully sold on Russia based on the little tour tonight, it's goodbye Moscow for other opportunities. And no job interviews with FSB agents. She points what she hopes is an authoritative finger at the blonde. "I promised one night. You only have one chance to sell me."

Villanelle's grin shows teeth. "Let me buy you a drink."


	2. Selling It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle takes Eve on the promised grand tour of Moscow in an attempt to sell her on living there.

**MOSCOW**   
**DOWNTOWN**   
**COCKTAIL BAR**

Eve lets out an involuntary moan.

"Told you," smiles Villanelle.

"This is so..." Eve pulls the cocktail glass from her lips and places it almost reverently down on the table. "So good. How on earth is this so good, I watched him make it, it's like pure alcohol."

Villanelle leans back in the booth, looking incredibly pleased with herself. "Told you," she repeats. And then she motions with her shoulder back behind the bar. "I know him, the bartender. He has been making the best cocktails on earth for ten years." Her eyes glint triumphantly. "I know the way to your heart is through a good drink, Eve Polastri."

Eve lifts her glass to her lips again. "That doesn't make me sound too great, but this is so damn good I actually don't care." She savours another sip, before looking back to Villanelle. "How do you know the bartender? When did you ever live in Moscow?"

This question is a little daring, dipping into Villanelle's mysterious past, which she is usually so tight lipped about. The younger woman considers the question for a moment, her face not betraying a thing, before she shifts in her seat a little. Her gaze wanders over the bar, unfocused and far away. "After I got out of prison," she says finally. "Moscow was my base... I was being trained while in the city, instructed on how best to serve the Twelve." She pauses. "Learning how to disguise myself... get into places and blend in. And other things."

Eve stays quiet, sipping her drink. She waits.

"I liked it here," she says then. Her facial expression is impossible to read. Impassive. "But there were a lot of ... bad things associated with Russia." And then she looks back to Eve. "I asked to leave. And we went to Paris."

Processing that information, Eve nods. Her brain whirs over what she's just learned. "Well, I do remember Paris," she comments after a moment.

Villanelle suddenly looks pained at the mention of that. "You ruined so many good clothes," she says sadly.

The tension broken, Eve shakes her head, laughing a bit. "I also literally stabbed you, but sure, be mad about the clothes."

"Bodies heal, Eve. Goddard does not."

Still chuckling a bit, Eve takes the last sip of her drink. "Well I apologize deeply. However, one good drink and a guilt trip over your lost closet is not enough to sell me on a city, you know."

Nodding slowly, Villanelle raises an eyebrow. "True. Hungry?"

'Damn it - she's thought this through,' Eve admits begrudgingly to herself, as she feels her mouth start to water.

**MOSCOW**   
**STREETLEVEL**

Eve can admit this too - walking through the streets, there is a certain charm about Moscow that can't quite be described through a pamphlet. There's an energy that lives within any city, and already she feels like she can sense the different personality that Moscow has, compared to London. Unfamiliar but delicious smells waft through windows, and bursts of music can be heard as the two of the walk past. Eve tries to catch the words, but the volume and the language both prove to be barriers.

A thought comes to her. "What's your favourite song?" she asks. "You know so many languages. Do you listen to music in English? French?"

Villanelle walks alongside her, and looks over briefly before answering with a impenetrable expression. "I like national anthems."

Eve's immediate burst of laughter merges with her response. "Ahaha- what?" 

Villanelle frowns, looking bewildered now. "I don't understand why this is strange!" she defends vigorously. "They are very melodic."

Eve's grin feels so wide it could reach her ears. "You're completely serious, aren't you?"

"Of course!"

They keep walking, and turn onto another street, a little darker but with shop windows still alight. Cyclists zip past them. Eve shakes her head fondly. "Melodic," she repeats, still chuckling.

"Shut up," says Villanelle, but she is smiling too now. And then her eyes light up as she sees a street food stand to the side of the road, next to a tall building, whose first floor windows are dark. "Aha! Here, Eve."

Looking up at the green kiosk, Eve recognizes the red and yellow lettering she has been seeing around the city, and this time pays closer attention. " _Kroshka Kartoshka_ ," she reads slowly, trying out the pronunciation clumsily. 

Villanelle speaks quickly to the man at the kiosk, motioning to the menu items and holding up two fingers. She turns and then looks at Eve. "Little Potato," she translates.

"Cute," comments Eve, surveying the stand. "What are we - whoa!"

She is suddenly handed a very large delicious looking something, wrapped in paper and foil. She inspects it. "Okay, this is a _big_ potato."

Villanelle is handed her own gigantic item of food, and takes a large bite. It which must be far too hot - she is somehow completely unaffected. "It is a very big potato," she agrees through a mouthful of it. She hums with satisfaction for a second before speaking again. "Come." She abruptly turns away from the stand, walking along the street.

Eve runs a step or two to catch up, blowing over the steaming stuffed potato in a feeble attempt to cool it down. "I've seen these on basically every corner," she calls ahead at Villanelle. "Not that this doesn't look amazing, because it does, but why did we have to come all the way down here to - hey why are you stopping?"

Sure enough, Villanelle has come to a halt, in front of a building that does not look very interesting - a couple lights are on on the upper floors, but the whole first floor is dark, and there is no signage. Villanelle inspects it quickly, plain looking with a large wide door, maybe for a parking garage. Then she looks around surreptitiously, over both shoulders.

"What are you looking for?" Eve asks, frowning curiously.

"Police."

"Why are you looking for the pol- Villanelle!"

The blonde has dropped to the ground, rolling adeptly under the big garage door, which is open a foot or so at the bottom. "Come on!" echoes her voice from inside.

Eve pauses in shock for about three seconds, before recognizing that of course this is what is happening. As she drops and rolls herself, she now appreciates the portability of a paper wrapped stuffed potato.

**MOSCOW**   
**ROOFTOP**

"Wow," says Eve.

It's really all there is to say. 

They stand at the top of the building, after having rolled in under the parking garage, rigging the locked inside door open with a credit card and taking the elevator up as far as it could go. 

It's a rooftop - probably one of the taller buildings in Moscow, although not the tallest. And the view... it's indescribable. Eve feels like the lights of the city are painted there, the noise of the cars and the people still rumbling along below, but muffled enough that it feels like their own little escape. She steps closer to the walled edge, looking over it down at the sidewalk. She tries to see the little green kiosk below. She feels like she could see every part of the city.

"Careful," says Villanelle from behind her.

Eve steps back, turning to face the blonde. "You know," she says, "If someone told me a year ago that I would be spending a leisurely evening on a rooftop in Moscow with a potato and an assassin, I wouldn't have believed them."

Villanelle laughs with clear delight at that - Eve tries not to notice how deeply she enjoys the sound. "It is a good potato, then?"

"It is," replies Eve. "And the view... I can't even say. How did you find this place?"

Villanelle's eyes scan the skyline. "I used to come here to be sure I was alone," she says. "Konstantin did not know it was here." A smile creeps on to her face. "He would never know where I went. It drove him crazy."

Eve laughs quietly, watching her. "I bet," she says softly. She looks back over the side of the building - takes in all the lights. "It's really gorgeous up here, Villanelle."

The blonde nods, and it is quiet for a moment, other than the muffled sounds of the city below. 

And then Eve sighs heavily. "Okay, okay," she says.

Already, Villanelle knows what this means, and a bigger grin is breaking onto her face. "Okay, what?" she says, making sure.

The dark haired woman faces her, looking her in the eye. "You win, okay? Russia it is. I'll meet with Vlad tomorrow about the job."

"Eve!" exclaims Villanelle. "I knew it! What did I tell you?"

"Yeah, yeah - no gloating or I might change my mind!"

"You cannot change your mind, Eve, that is not in the rules."

As they make their way back down to the hotel, Eve reflects on her decision. She considers if she acted rashly, if she thinks she'll regret it.

Searching her feelings, she somehow knows she won't. And although she doesn't think too hard about it, she knows that her mind was made up less based on Moscow alone, and more on what is becoming increasingly apparent... how much it seems to represent for Villanelle. With every corner they walk together, Eve sees the roots. And she sees the history, even the painful parts, being re examined.

And seeing that, she knows that staying here feels like the right decision for them both.

**FSB**   
**FRIDAY MORNING**

Vlad frowns at the paper in front of him. "Oh, my, Carolyn," he mutters, and his expression darkens. "Ah." Exhaling heavily, he sets the papers down on the desk. "Well, this is very disappointing."

Eve stares at him. "Disappointing," she repeats. "Disappointing? Does that word mean something different, in Russia?"

Vlad knots his fingers together, and tips his head a bit. "It is very disappointing," he relents, which really is not much better. "You know, I have known Carolyn for a very long time."

Eve grimaces. "Yes, I've heard ... details."

"Yes well," continues Vlad. "I have always had my suspicions, but this information is ah, certainly damning. It will require a massive restructuring to thoroughly and still discreetly investigate MI6, to see how deep the corruption goes." He surveys Eve. "Which is good news for you, Ms Polastri."

Eve leans forward a bit, wondering if it really could be that easy. "I get the job?"

"Supply and demand," says Vlad. "And you have just created a massive demand for employees who will investigate with discretion and without scruples." He raises an eyebrow. "Although I must ask, to please not casually betray _me_ in service of this job, hm?"

Eve feels her cheeks flush. "About that... there were circumstances - I mean I was just very singularly focused. " She stops, wondering how to explain herself without sounding both like an insane stalker and terribly unprofessional. "I was ehm, too focused on finding, I mean on only just... one particular person involved -"

"Eve," says Vlad, thankfully cutting off her increasingly troubling rambling. "I have heard certain things, and I assure you no explanation necessary. I am fairly confident we won't run into this particular problem again..." He pauses a beat and smiles lightly. "The woman who made this interview appointment for you sounded... Russian. She never said her name."

Eve feels her stomach drop. "She... it was no one."

Vlad laughs. "Listen, Eve. I have bigger fish to fry, yes?" He taps the envelope that she has handed him. "And ah - congratulations, I am glad you found her." He grins, seemingly unable to help himself.

"Well... ah, thank you," Eve replies, and her stomach settles a little.

"Can I ask you something?" 

"Oh uh.. of course, yes."

"What is she like?"

After a moment of being stunned by the question, Eve considers it, and decides ultimately that the truth is probably the best way to go. "Honestly?" she says. "She's a huge pain in the ass."

Vlad laughs for a good ten seconds straight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're enjoying so far! Noting that my characterization of Moscow is researched only by Google and feelings, so apologies for any inaccuracies or generalizations. 
> 
> As well of course; ongoing disclaimer for the whole work - based on Friends With Benefits, so any scenes that I've adapted - all credit where it's due!
> 
> Thank you all for your feedback, you're all phenomenal.
> 
> More to come soon!


	3. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve and Villanelle adjust to life in Russia, as well as their newfound friendship.

  
**FSB**   
**MONDAY**

Eve's first day on the job is actually going... pretty amazing.

She shows up Monday at nine, and turns down the hallway where she interviewed to find that over the weekend an entire sleek new wing of the building had been set up. New offices, cubicles - chrome and leather. Already impressed, Eve is shown to a staggeringly beautiful corner office. Two full windows of glass, massive L shaped oak wood desk and a computer hooked up to...

"Holy shit!" she exclaims, wide eyed, as she reviews the privileged information she now has access to. "How are you guys getting away with this?"

Vlad, leaning against her desk, shrugs one shoulder. "Things sometimes snowball," he comments airily, before turning to look her in the eye. "Also it goes without saying if you share any of this with anyone..."

"Oh of course I expect I'll be immediately murdered, yes."

"Ah, good we are on the same page," says Vlad breezily, nodding. He gets up off the desk and takes a step to Eve's office door before turning once again, struck by a thought. "One more thing - are you coming to bowling tonight?"

Oh, Eve is sure as shit coming to bowling.

**MOSCOW**   
**HOTEL ROOM**   
**MONDAY NIGHT**

When Eve returns to the hotel room late that evening, Villanelle is there as well - sitting on her bed and frowning at the television, which is playing a hockey game. The rapid, feverish Russian dialogue of the commentator mixes with a sudden deafening roar from the crowd.

Villanelle's eyes widen drastically in what can only be described as utter bewilderment, and Eve tries very hard to not find it completely adorable.

"Eve, have you ever watched professional sports?" says Villanelle, still staring with some reverence at the screen. "There is _so_ much shouting."

"Mm," replies Eve, shrugging off her jacket. "Never really got into watching sports. However!" She grins. "I just got back from going bowling."

Villanelle immediately shifts her attention, looking at Eve with a widening smile. "Incredibly sporty." She raises an eyebrow. "Are you good?"

Eve pauses in her process of unpacking her shoulder bag to turn and look back at Villanelle, right in the eyes, with an expression of very genuine wonder. "You know what? I am. I'm _amazing_." 

Equally surprised and delighted by that, the blonde laughs out loud. "Are you?"

"Villanelle," says Eve seriously, smiling in amazement with herself still. "I am. It's unreal." She raises a finger suddenly, remembering something. "Vlad was so impressed. He wants to put me in a league."

"Wooow," says Villanelle, still grinning. "So, bowling with the boss? He likes you then - he has not fired you yet?"

Eve rolls her eyes, turning back to her bag. "Your support is so moving."

"Pfft, I am kidding. Really, how was it?"

"It was good. The office too, everyone is nice." The bag is unpacked so Eve throws it down, and while she stares at it her mind moves back through her day. And then she remembers a particular conversation she had before leaving for bowling. "Ah," she starts and she feels her body tense a little. "Vlad, uh - he says he wants to get me an apartment."

Villanelle sounds surprised. "An apartment?"

Eve turns around again, and moves a couple paces to sit on her own bed, facing Villanelle's. "Yeah," she says. "He says you know, part of the job. He knows I'm not local, obviously." She looks Villanelle carefully in the eyes. "He showed me pictures of it. It's nice. It's uh... one bedroom."

As it often is, the blonde's face is impassive. "Right."

The atmosphere in the room is a little tenser. 'Ugh, ugh, ugh,' Eve thinks, her stomach twisting. It's uncomfortable conversation time and she knows it. She's been thinking about what to say - obviously they can't just companionably share hotel rooms forever. A more permanent living situation is an obvious requisite for sticking around in a new country. 

And very surely, a one bedroom apartment doesn't provide much option for continuing their current dance of 'We'll talk about it later.' A one bedroom apartment means either - don't live together, or _move in together_.

They have to talk about it sometime.

"So," Eve starts after a moment. "I am actually glad we decided to stay here. I think things are going to be good. And uh, it's looking like we're almost certainly not going to be murdered, right?"

Villanelle nods. "Pretty impressive, for us."

"I thought so too," agrees Eve. "That huge problem aside..." She breathes out slowly and looks Villanelle very plainly in the eye. "There's a lot of things we haven't talked about." She pauses, chewing over her words. "A lot of things that I've wanted to say to you."

The air seems to crackle. Villanelle doesn't blink. Just looks at her. Waiting. Eve notices a piece of blonde hair has come out of her messy bun, falling gently over her collarbone, which is partially exposed under her plain white v neck. Eve registers her body move ever so slightly with her breath.

For a tiny second, Eve almost re thinks what she is going to say.

'No,' she reminds herself firmly. And she looks up, clearing her throat. "But I just... I've been thinking a lot about relationships lately."

Villanelle nods slowly. "Right."

"You're what - twenty five?" Eve knows this for certain without having it verified, but she still watches the younger woman nod again. "I was about that old when I met Niko," she continues. Her eyes unfocus, remembering. "It was so vivid. I was so in love with him, every little thing about him. And just... I was positive that I knew exactly what my life with him was going to look like." She shakes her head sadly, and moves her gaze back to Villanelle's. "Like, I was positive."

There is a pause. "He seems like a good man," says Villanelle after a moment, and she sounds sincere.

"He is," says Eve, with conviction. "He really is. And you know, I did love him that much." She releases a breath, thinking. "I _was_ sure. But now.... here we are." She looks down, and examines her feet. "I just feel so... uncertain of everything in that realm, now. How do I know how to trust how I feel, and pull someone else into it as well? How can I _know_ that over time, things won't change and never go back? It's just..."

She trails off. The room is silent. She can't look up from her feet.

It is probably not that long - but it feels like forever, the moment drags. Nothing is said. But then - 

"You should take the apartment," says Villanelle, her voice clear, and steady.

Eve looks up. 

Villanelle looks like... Villanelle. She sits on the bed as she has this whole time, back straight, hair tucked back. Unruffled and assured. Her eyes blaze, and she repeats what she had said. "You should take the apartment. It will be good." She shrugs. "I will get an apartment too." And then she pauses, thinking. Eve can almost see the wheels turning in her head. "A _better_ apartment."

Eve laughs aloud. This maniac. "Oh, yeah?"

And slowly the blonde smiles, a little smugness creeping into her features. "I do really have a lot of money. Kind of a ridiculous amount."

Shaking her head at this, Eve smiles too. "Alright. You try that. You know Vlad is no slouch."

There is a moment's pause while Villanelle stares back at Eve, thinking. "Maybe I will find something close to your apartment," she says. Her expression is not quite readable. And then... "We can be friends."

A funny feeling trickles down Eve's spine. "Friends," she repeats, trying the word out like she's never head it before.

"Well," says the blonde. "I think we could be friends. I ah..." Her eyebrows knit together, thinking about her words. "I understand what you have been saying." She motions with one hand between the two of them. "I get it - I think. I mean I..." She exhales, shoulders releasing their tension. "I understand."

Eve watches her, and tries to ignore the burning feelings in her chest. "Thanks," she says, very quiet.

"Of course," says Villanelle. She meets Eve's eyes with purpose. "But look, we know that we do not want to be apart. Right?" 

Composing herself a little, Eve nods. "Yeah. Yeah, right."

"So..." She lifts and drops a shoulder in a casual shrug. "We should be friends."

Eve thinks for a moment, turns the notion around in her head. 'Yeah, why not?' she thinks to herself. It makes sense. It might even be good.

"Yeah," she agrees, with some vigor. She nods again, and smiles. "Friends."

"Good," says Villanelle, softly. And then her eyes flicker as a thought comes to her. She gasps. "Eve, we could go bowling!"

Eve chuckles, and leans back on her bed. "Okaaay," she says airily. "But hey, don't think just because we're friends I won't kick your ass."

**MOSCOW**   
**BEING FRIENDS**

Being friends is sort of weird at first.

But it quickly becomes a smooth and comfortable kind of normal, and also kind of the most fun Eve has had in years.

**THURSDAY**   
**VILLANELLE'S APARTMENT**

Eve stands in front of the open closet door, and feels equal parts impressed, in awe, and enraged. "How," she says, "How in god's name do you already have a full closet of clothes? We have been in the country less than a week. You moved in yesterday!"

Villanelle appears behind her, and peers inside the closet as well. "Want to hear something that will make you even angrier?"

"What..." grumbles Eve.

Villanelle grins. "There are four closets."

"Wow, I hate you."

Laughing, the blonde walks back into the living room. "You don't."

"Oh, but I do," counters Eve, following her. She takes in the beautiful apartment, spacious and modern. "Damn, this place is nice. You don't even have a job."

Villanelle flops herself down onto a couch. "I have had many jobs in the past."

"Clearly." Eve sits down too. "Hey, what are you doing all day, for the most part? No job and all."

Villanelle pauses a moment before answering. "It's hard to explain," she says, finally.

Eve frowns. "You understand I have to ask you if that means you're murdering people?"

The blonde rolls her eyes. "No, Eve, I'm not murdering people. You are a broken record, with that."

"Okay, okay! So, what are you doing?"

Villanelle stares out her absurdly large bay window as she speaks. "With everything that has happened in my life," she says slowly, "It is like everything that made me up was just what other people told me I was. Like the Twelve told me I was a killer, so I was a killer. But now I have left the Twelve behind. Them and others like them."

Eve feels like asking questions, but holds them back.

"So," Villanelle continues. "I am trying to figure out who I am, I guess." She shrugs. "Or something like that."

"Wow," says Eve after a second. "I'm actually really impressed. That's so... that's really mature of you, Villanelle."

The blonde smiles, nodding. "Thank you, Eve."

And then the buzzer sounds, loud and harsh.

Villanelle's expression immediately floods with excitement. "Ooh! It is my shoes."

Eve watches her rush off. "Huh, and I hate you again. That was quick."

**FRIDAY**   
**COCKTAIL BAR**

"How was work?" Villanelle asks, pushing a straw around her glass. 

"Good, actually," Eve answers, nodding. "Yeah. I mean it's pretty amazing how fast everything got put together. We've set up surveillance, recon. I'm analyzing everything once the reports come back to us." 

"Hm," nods the blonde. And then her face breaks into a grin. "Can you tell me anything good?"

Eve hums. "Actually the important confidential stuff so far in this project is still the folder we gave them, so afraid you're out of luck there."

Villanelle pouts. "Really? Nothing?"

Eve shrugs a shoulder, looking off into space. And then a particular thought floats back to her. "Well..."

The younger woman leans forward eagerly. "Yes?"

Eve looks back with a very strange expression, as if her face is not quite sure how to arrange itself. "Ah." She fiddles a bit with her napkin. "Did you know Carolyn collects miniature pineapples?"

Villanelle blinks. Blinks again. "Um. What?"

"Yeah. Like... like little ceramic pineapples." 

"Little... ceramic... how little?"

Eve ponders briefly, remembering. "They vary in size. No taller than ten inches."

"Are they coloured?"

"Painted. Your standard green, yellow, brown."

Villanelle, her mouth slightly open, lifts her hand to rest at her chin, elbows on the table and eyes full of intrigue. "Where does she keep them?"

Eve's eyes flash. "That's the best part."

Villanelle leans forward with a tense excitement. "It's a secret room, isn't it."

Eve points at her with triumph. "Secret room. Upstairs. I never saw it."

" _Never_?"

"Not once, and I've been up there."

Villanelle leans back in her booth, fingers tapping on the table in front of her.

A second of mutual silence.

"This is the best thing I've ever heard."

" _Isn't it_?"

**TUESDAY EVENING**   
**EVE'S APARTMENT**

This is stupid. She's not going to do this.

Eve stares at the light fixture on the ceiling, whose bulb has just burnt out. Stares at the chair she's pushed under the fixture. Stares at the lightbulb in her hand. 

When Eve stands on the chair, she is just a little too short to reach the light.

She could go the hardware store and buy some form of step ladder.

She could try and communicate her problem to the building manager, although his English isn't great, and it would be a bit awkward.

She could wait and tackle this problem later on.

She sighs. And pulls out her phone, tapping a number and hitting call. 

The phone rings. "Hello?"

Eve sighs again, into the phone. "Villanelle. You are not allowed to laugh at me for this."

The younger woman's excitement can almost be heard over the line. "I literally cannot wait to hear what you are about to say."

Eve stares up at her ceiling. "I would not ask you this if you lived further away, but you're like a two minute walk."

"Eve, what is it? Just tell me."

"Ah. I need to change my lightbulb and I'm too short."

There is a long moment of silence.

"Villanelle?"

"Sorry, I was just firmly committing this conversation to memory for any time in the future when I feel depressed."

"Shut up and get over here."

The lightbulb gets changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw, such friendly friends! So nice and platonic! What could possibly change that?
> 
> :)
> 
> Thanks so much for all the support so far! I am having far too much fun writing this so expect more soon - as always please let me know what you think!


	4. Benefits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve and Villanelle watch a romantic comedy and get an idea.

**SATURDAY**   
**MOVIE NIGHT**   
**EVE'S APARTMENT**

Villanelle's eyebrows knit together. "Eve, explain to me. Why is there always a crazy friend from across the hall?"

Eve drops back on to the couch with a bowl of popcorn, briefly checking the screen. "Ah, the wacky comic relief character. I think it's required or you can't call it a rom com."

Villanelle effortlessly steals the popcorn bowl, frowning. "You owe me this popcorn," she says firmly, "Based on your movie choices."

Eve laughs. "Come on! It's fun. It's light." 

"You really like this stuff?" Villanelle motions toward the television. "It's like every one of these movies is the same script with the names changed."

Eve snatches a handful of popcorn. "Ah, but that's the whole point of it," she says, leaning back against the couch. "You love it _because_ it's trash. You have to look at it through the twisted lens of society."

"Oh? Enlighten me on this twisted lens."

"You see," continues Eve, watching one of the lead characters accidentally spill coffee on the other. "A romantic comedy plays perfectly into society's expectations of what your life should look like. Step one: you meet your soulmate in a quirky and unexpected fashion. Maybe he's your boss." She makes an exaggerated shocked face. "Maybe you hate him! But then you fall in love! Hijinks ensue."

Villanelle laughs shortly. "Hijinks starring your crazy friend?"

"Now you're getting it," nods Eve, smiling. "And people eat this up, because they want to believe that they too, are only one spilled coffee away from this whirlwind romance." She waves an arm at the screen mockingly. "It could happen to them tomorrow - and then they'll be eating ice cream in New York, and chasing each other through train stati-"

Eve stops talking very abruptly. 

"Please forget I said that last sentence."

Villanelle shakes for a second with suppressed laughter as she attempts to control her facial expression. "Forgotten," she manages after a moment.

"You get what I'm saying though?"

Villanelle shrugs. "A little, I guess. But don't people get tired of watching people just fall in love and get married over and over again?"

"Pfft, not at all!" scoffs Eve. "People are obsessed with it. Everyone has just taught themselves that the only way to be happy is to get this perfect relationship." She motions to the screen again, making her point. "And so - ninety minutes of gentle comedy that reminds them that love is just around the corner."

Villanelle nods, illumination slowly spreading onto her face. "Ahh, I see. So it is actually very sad, self indulgent bullshit."

Eve crunches popcorn and looks satisfied. "Exactly!"

"Oh!" says Villanelle, and she sits back on the couch too. "You know, I think I like it better now."

"There you go. Do you feel... annoyingly superior?"

"I do!"

"Perfect," grins Eve. "You've got it."

They watch in relative silence for a second, until -

"Oh my god, they're having sex," says Villanelle, shocked. "What? They have just met! There has not even been any huge misunderstanding with sad music yet!"

Eve laughs. "Yeah, it's one of those movies where the main characters think they can just have sex and stay friends." She takes a sip of beer. "Spoiler alert, they can't."

Villanelle frowns at her. "Why not?"

"Are you serious?" asks Eve, raising an eyebrow. "It's impossible. It can't be done."

Villanelle shakes her head in disagreement. "I do not understand why. They can just have the sex and instead of dating, they ... don't."

"And stay friends?"

"Yes!"

Eve laughs. "No. It can't be done." She nods to the television. "Watch the movie, you'll see. It always fails. One person develops feelings and gets jealous. Or one person wants to start dating but the other doesn't." She shakes her head. "Lines get crossed, feelings get hurt. It's a terrible idea." 

Making a face, Villanelle slumps back against the couch. 

One moment passes. Two. Then - 

"That is stupid," the blonde announces with gumption, sitting up straight again. "Two people should be able to be friends and have sex." She frowns at Eve. "Not everyone should have to find this perfect relationship from the movies. How great is that anyway?"

Eve sighs. "It's not like I'm disagreeing with you. I've just sworn off relationships, haven't I? And I'm not a one night stand sort of person." She takes another swig of beer. "Leaves me in a bit of a forced celibacy situation."

"Well there you go!" says Villanelle. And then she looks at Eve, and seems to digest that last bit of information more completely. She keeps looking, her demeanor shifting from incensed to.. something else. "That is very unfair for you," she adds in a low voice.

Feeling the intensity of the gaze on her, Eve looks over. And immediately regrets that, taking in the very particular look on Villanelle's face. Eve's mouth is suddenly dry. "What?" she asks suspiciously.

"Nothing," replies Villanelle innocently, eyes wide. But then she very deliberately and slowly bites her lip.

Eve's heart hammers in her chest, suddenly unable to look anywhere except Villanelle's mouth. "I'm getting a glass of water," she says in a voice at least a pitch higher than normal, and almost leaps off the couch, heading over to the kitchen to escape whatever this situation is becoming.

Which might have worked, except unsurprisingly, Villanelle follows her. 

When she gets there, she watches Eve intently, folding her arms languidly over the kitchen island and resting her chin on them. "Get me a water too?"

Eve pauses in opening her cupboard door to glare at her sternly. "No."

Laughing, Villanelle stands up straight. "Come on!" she exclaims, enthusiasm ringing in her voice. "You are thinking it too! We could do this. It would be easy."

Eve makes an indignant noise as she pours water into a glass. "Have you not been listening to me? It's impossible."

Villanelle scoffs. "Pfft. We are not characters in a movie, Eve. We are adults with free will." 

Eve stares at her with blatant skepticism.

Rolling her eyes, Villanelle groans dramatically. "Okay, worrywart. Tell me about these impossible problems. What are you concerned about?"

"I don't know! Lots of things."

"Liiiike? Be specific."

Eve glares at her. "Ughh okay, well. There are expectations that come up when sleeping together is involved." She pauses, thinking. "It just puts this relationship lens over everything. Like you owe each other more time and attention that you would a friend."

Villanelle nods. "Okay! Great, so, we just have a rule. No relationship lens things." She raps her knuckles on the counter. "No extra time or attention required. What else?"

Eve points a stern finger at her. "Just because I'm playing along with you here doesn't mean I'm agreeing to this."

Another eye roll. "Fine, fine. Come on, what else?"

"Ah, um. No having to call the next day? Or stay the night."

Villanelle smirks. "You're such a guy."

"Hey, watch it," says Eve, but she smiles. "Ah, I don't know, Villanelle. I think just more than anything the issue is... losing the friendship. Letting fights about all the other stuff get in the way. You know?"

More seriously now, Villanelle nods. "Of course," she says. "So... we just agree. No relationship expectations. No letting the extra stuff get in the way." She moves around the island to where Eve stands, and looks her in the eye. "And most important, staying friends no matter what."

Eve looks back at her. "How can you promise those things?" she asks.

The blonde shrugs a shoulder, but doesn't break eye contact. "Our friendship is important to me," she says plainly and genuinely. "So, I promise. Don't you?"

Eve frowns, conflicted. "It's still crazy," she says stubbornly after a moment. "I mean... who says we're even physically attracted to each other?"

Villanelle lets out an immediate, very loud shout of laughter. After a moment, still chuckling, she raises an eyebrow. "Eve, are you serious?"

Eve looks away, rolling her eyes. "Shut up," she says, but she's unable to avoid smiling a little.

And then, in a move that seems to drain all the oxygen from the air, Villanelle takes a step forward, practically erasing all distance between them. Eve feels the counter top pressing into her lower back, and all she can see is the deep green in Villanelle's eyes, as the blonde whispers the words. "Why don't you _make_ me?"

A very long second passes. Two seconds.

"Okay, well, I'm going to kiss you now," says Eve breathlessly.

"Good place to start."

**EVE'S BEDROOM**

The door flies open, as Villanelle is pushed against it, her feet stepping back, back, back, as Eve leans against her, kissing deeply.

Thump. She is against the wall, hands pulling her hair, clutching at her hips.

Thump. And then the bed, her blonde hair splayed over the pillow, Eve above her, pulling her sweater down her shoulders.

"Wait," mumbles Villanelle. "Wait."

Eve pulls back, flabbergasted. "Seriously? You just spent all that time convincing me, and now you want me to wait?"

Before Eve can blink, Villanelle moves, flipping their bodies effortlessly so Eve is on her back and the younger woman is straddling her hips. "We are just friends," she says mischievously. "So no awkward back and forth, I can just cut to the chase, yes, and tell you I like to be on top?"

Eve's brain short circuits briefly.

And then she nods courteously. "Sure - okay." She raises her eyebrows. "Then I guess I can unawkwardly just tell you - I like my neck kissed."

Villanelle grins wickedly. "Mm. I like my shoulders bitten."

Oh. Oh wow. Eve kisses her again deeply, and speaks, words muffled against lips while her quick hands remove clothing. "My left hip is ticklish."

"Ahhh, okay. My ears are sensitive."

Eve stops while undoing jeans. "Your ears?"

Villanelle nods, breath quickening. "Uh huh."

Okay, well...

"Take off your pants, will you, I can't get the button."

**EVE'S BEDROOM  
A VERY ENJOYABLE AMOUNT OF TIME LATER**

Eve and Villanelle are laying on the bed, atop the sheets, panting and sweaty. 

Villanelle rolls onto her back. "Wow."

"Yeah."

Genuinely awed, the blonde turns her head slightly to face Eve. "Who knew such detailed instruction would be so... effective."

Eve stares back at her, exhausted. "That was a very successful experiment."

"Right?"

A moment or so of silence. 

"Did I hurt you, when I bit you?"

The sheets rustle gently as Villanelle turns on her side to face Eve. "Nope," she answers. And then she looks mildly pensive, considering. "Actually, I could have taken a bit more." 

Eve turns on her side as well, her expression surprised. "Really?"

The blonde stares at her, nods. "Uh huh."

"Hm." 

A moment more of silence.

"Do you want to order pizza?"

"Abso _lutely_."

**BENEFITS**

The whole friends having sex thing is going well, Eve admits. 

Really well.

As much as she didn't think it was possible, she and Villanelle have managed to maintain their easy friendship, the comfort of being around each other somehow unruffled by the fact that they're naked half the time.

**TUESDAY**   
**VILLANELLE'S APARTMENT**

"How was your day?" asks Villanelle, leaning down and dragging her lips over Eve's collarbone.

"Ah, it was alright," responds Eve breathily. "Work was good. Finally got - _oh my god, right there_ \- that fly out of my office."

Villanelle runs her tongue over her teeth in concentration, as she gets into the rhythm she wants. "Oh no way! You have been trying to get him forever."

Eve hisses as Villanelle shifts their bodies in a certain way. "Yeah," she gasps, "He was a real son of a bitch."

"How'd you get him? Hold on, my hand is cramping up, I need to switch."

"Sure. Swatted him out with a rolled up newspap- oh my _god_ , Villanelle, keep going -"

The blonde grins and her eyes widen in surprised delight as Eve whimpers softly and her voice trails off. Villanelle waits a beat for the woman underneath her to stop twitching. "Really? Left hand, nice."

Eve lets out a slow breath, her body shaking still with the sheer adrenaline. "Left hand was very nice."

Villanelle smiles devilishly. "Congrats about the fly."

"Thank you!"

**THURSDAY**   
**EVE'S APARTMENT**

"Eve!" Villanelle closes the fridge door, her mouth hanging open in shock. "You only have sweet pickles?"

Eve pushes a button on her remote to change the channel, lounging on the couch in only her underwear. "Yeah? I like them!" she calls through the open doorway to the kitchen.

Villanelle stares at the closed fridge door, absolutely astounded. " _Sweet_ pickles?" she practically shouts.

"Yeah!"

Shaking her head with disbelief, the blonde returns to the living room, stopping next to the television set and folding her arms. "And they say I'm the psychopath."

Eve scoffs. "You are, I've seen you eat a KitKat bar."

Villanelle throws up her hands. "It's _just_ easier to bite right into it!"

Eve points a stern finger at her. "It's psychotic."

After dramatically rolling her eyes, the blonde smirks. "Well, good thing I am not your girlfriend, or you would be able to tell me to quit doing it."

"And good thing I'm not your girlfriend, or I wouldn't be able to inform you that the sweet pickles will stay," says Eve right back. "Now come over here and finish taking off my clothes, please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HIJINKS ENSUE!
> 
> Small note for this chapter: I changed the rating for obvious 'adult themes', just to be safe!
> 
> Also, bye, fourth wall, you are destroyed.
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	5. Nobody Ever Knocks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve gets an unexpected visitor. Villanelle stumbles into an exciting new opportunity.

**SUNDAY AFTERNOON**   
**EVE'S BEDROOM**

Villanelle frowns slightly, staring at the painting above Eve's headboard. "I don't know, I just don't get it."

"What's to get? It's a painting of a bridge."

Villanelle inhales sharply as Eve moves beneath her, and then works hard to refocus her brain. "Yes - it's a painting of a bridge. Why is it in your house? Why is it above your bed?"

Eve sighs. "I don't know, Villanelle, it's soothing. There's mist, it's in a forest. I bought it, I put it above my bed."

"It is not soothing. It makes me feel restless, like I should be going somewhere," the blonde grumbles. 

Eve grins devilishly at that. "Maybe you should," she says pointedly, and moves her hand to Villanelle's shoulder. And she just starts to push the blonde firmly down her body when - 

"Eve?"

A voice. A voice in her apartment, just outside the open bedroom door.

A familiar voice.

Eve's heart drops through her stomach. "Mom??"

And sure enough, with a full and gratuitous view of the bed, in walks a stylish looking older Korean woman, white hair long and pulled back in a ponytail, fashionable clothes with long, dangling feather earrings and dark purple lipstick. "Oh, my!" she exclaims, taking in the sight in front of her. "Oh my, my!" She brings a hand to cover her eyes and continues - "Oh don't mind me, not looking at all -"

Villanelle jumps off Eve so fast, rolling left off the bed and landing very ungracefully on the floor. Her head pops up after a second and she grasps wildly over the bed for a sheet to wrap around herself. 

Eve growls loudly. "Mom!" She reaches to the right of the bed for her robe and pulls it on, pushing her feet to the floor, her expression furious. "Mom _whatareyoudoinghere_."

With her eyes still covered (albeit with a very unsubtle peek over at the blonde now standing wrapped in a sheet), the older lady lifts an arm over vaguely in the direction of Eve. "Sweetheart! I wanted to see you! I got your message you'd moved and I just couldn't resist dropping by-"

"WHY could you not resist," demands Eve, and then she groans as her mother 'blindly' feels herself over and envelops Eve in a hug. She sighs heavily with resigned acceptance. "How did you even get in?"

"Oh, your landlord gave me a key! Very nice man -"

Another very blatant stare at Villanelle over Eve's shoulder.

"- I just said I was your visiting mother and he let me right in!" She removes the hand from over her eyes to look at Eve, and adds in a very loud whisper - "You didn't tell me you had a hot young girlfriend!"

Taking advantage of the moment, Villanelle leaps for her shirt, which she spots discarded at the foot of the bed. 

"Ughh, Mom," groans Eve. "She's not my girlfriend."

"Just friends," calls Villanelle somewhat lamely from across the room.

Eve's mother looks positively delighted to hear this. "Just friends? Oh I love it, darling, that's so _open_ , very hip right now." She leans in close to Eve and whispers again. "How old is she, thirty?"

"Mom," Eve reprimands under her breath.

"Ehm, I am twenty five," chimes in Villanelle, who is now successfully wearing both a shirt and underwear.

" _Villanelle_!!" Eve reprimands, very loudly.

Eve's mom deftly ignores her daughter's frustration and glides over to the other side of the room with a frankly unrestrained glee. "Villanelle! Oh, what a lovely name, and dear, I _love_ your accent. I'm Linda!"

The expression on Villanelle's face is one of calmly masked panic. "Hi, Linda," she says evenly. "And yes, I'm ah..." she smiles uncertainly. "From Russia. So."

Linda places a hand on Villanelle's forearm with a playful smile. "Oh yes you are, darling."

Eve closes her eyes for a moment, trying to collect herself and not just completely flip out. "Mom," she tries again after a deep breath. "Again, just... What are you doing here? Where's David?"

Letting go of Villanelle's arm ('thank merciful god' thinks Eve), Linda turns back towards her daughter. "Oh honey, things with David didn't work out - he just wanted too much from me -" she pauses to say quickly over her shoulder to Villanelle, "David is my now ex-fiance."

"Oh," says Villanelle, expressionless, wondering if her shirt is see through. 

"He was tying me down! And I just had to get away!" continues Linda. "You know, and come see my lovely daughter!" She beams at Eve.

Eve blinks, summoning every shred of will to remain composed. "Okay," she says after a second, in a very carefully calm tone. "Sounds great - Mom, do you mind maybe waiting outside in the living room for me...?"

"Oh of course!" exclaims Linda, feather earrings swaying everywhere as she sweeps herself towards the door. "I've interrupted you, I'll just be right outside, have fun you two! Loving the whole loose boundaries idea you have -"

"Mom I'll be _right_ out," Eve says firmly, "Right out, just make yourself at home okay?" She follows her mom out and quickly shuts the door, turning around once it's closed to rest her back against it.

Eve and Villanelle stare at each other. 

"She seems nice," says Villanelle with a determinedly straight face.

Eve's eyebrows pull together dangerously. "You have to go." She looks her up and down quickly. "Oh, and your shirt is see through."

Villanelle titters with irritation. "Tch, I knew it," she mutters, scowling. She then focuses back on Eve. "And yes, please, I will leave! Where are my clothes?"

Groaning, Eve closes her eyes and leans her head back against the door. "I don't know. Everywhere?"

"Aha! Found my pants."

"Great."

"No bra... I had a bra!"

"Villanelle," growls Eve warningly, raising a hand to massage at her temple. "I will get it back to you, can you just-"

"Alright! Okay!" Now wearing a bomber jacket over her shirt and stepping into sneakers, Villanelle gives the room one more once over before nodding to herself. "Okay." She looks up at Eve without expression. "Okay. I am going out the window."

There is a split second where Eve starts to protest, but then she sighs resignedly and waves toward it. "Go on, then," she says. She glumly watches the blonde walk over purposefully to lift the sash and grumbles, "Wish _I_ could go out the window."

Looking back over her shoulder, Villanelle fixes Eve with a look. "Come on," she says in a reassuring tone. "You will be fine. Listen, call me tonight. We will get a drink."

Sighing again, Eve nods. "Okay. Yeah I will. Now get out of here this instant or she is going to ask me questions about how 'round two' was!"

Villanelle's eyes widen and she throws a leg out the open window. "Bye!"

It's a moment before Eve remembers that she lives on the ninth floor, but she ultimately figures that Villanelle will be probably be fine. 

**SUNDAY AFTERNOON**   
**OUTSIDE EVE'S APARTMENT**   
**NINE FLOORS DOWN**

Villanelle touches down in an alleyway, which looks very dark and not at all safe, but climbing out of windows in Russia only affords certain luxuries, she supposes.

Pausing to orient herself a bit, she figures heading left will be her best route back to her apartment. 

She has only made it a hundred metres or so, however, before she hears the familiar and unmistakable sound of a human body hitting concrete, accompanied with a pained howl. Stopping in her tracks, she turns her head to her right to see an industrial looking door.

Hmm.

Stepping forward towards the door, Villanelle crouches slowly down, and when she is close her face is level with the door handle. She prods it gently. Doesn't look like a very sophisticated lock. She could probably get it open, although from the sounds of the wailing inside, that would be very dangerous.

Hmm.

It's unlocked in under a minute. And then it's open.

"Whoa," says Villanelle as she steps inside, impressed.

If she had to guess, she would assume this space used to be a gym - it is large, somewhat industrial looking, concrete walls and floors, but with semi permanent fixtures. Benches, climbing ropes, and most notably, four or five raised platforms, roped around.

For fighting.

She has not been quiet while picking the lock, or kept her voice down, and so she is immediately spotted. The gym-place is full of people - mostly large, tattooed men, all heavily muscled or otherwise terrifying looking. Two of the rings are being used currently - one holds a scrappy looking young guy up against a scary looking woman with a bandana tied around her head. Another holds two men that look as though they are each three hundred pounds of pure muscle. They are clearly attempting to beat the shit out of each other.

"Hey!" calls a voice, in Russian. A blond man with thick eyebrows and a mean looking face rushes toward Villanelle. He is wearing a sleeveless shirt and his huge biceps are covered in tattoos. Blood is all over his forearms. As he approaches the door, he builds up speed, holding his fist back in preparation to connect with Villanelle's head in what will almost certainly be a near fatal blow...

WHUMP.

Almost effortlessly, Villanelle catches the man's fist and twists it - all his momentum is immediately used against him and he flips, landing hard and firm on his back on the ground. He is instantly out cold.

"Wow," says another voice, this time from her left. 

She turns her head quickly in case of another attack, but instead is met with the sight of a man standing casually with his arms crossed, his hair dark, wearing gym clothes and heavy boots. He looks impressed. 

"You are good," says the man, speaking Russian.

Villanelle stares at him. "What is this place?" she says back, in English.

Other than raising an eyebrow, the man shows no other reaction to the change of language and answers her in English. "Are you with the police?"

Expression transparent, Villanelle stares back. "No."

The man tilts his head, appearing to believe her. "Yes, the police would not be so brave, I'm thinking." He surveys her a moment longer. "We are a competitive fighting league. Only eh - off the record." He nods towards the rest of the people in the gym. "We like to fight, and compete for money, but we have... histories. Would rather stay off the televisions."

Villanelle's eyebrows raise in interest. "I also may have a bit of a history, as you put it."

The man clicks his tongue, seemingly unsurprised by that. "How did you find this place?"

She looks back at him with a blank expression. "I climbed out of a window."

He smirks. "You are weird. You can stay. I am Dmitri."

"Billie."

Dmitri nods. "Okay, Billie. Come, I will show you around." He walks a pace or so, before turning his head back at her. "Eh - can you speak Russian? All the switching, it gets annoying."

Villanelle pauses a moment. And then... "Da."

**MONDAY NIGHT**   
**VILLANELLE'S APARTMENT**

"I can't believe you joined a fight club," Eve says, running her fingers over a fresh bruise on Villanelle's shoulder. 

"It is not a fight club," retorts Villanelle. "Move your leg."

"Sorry." Eve does so, and then takes a sharp intake of breath as Villanelle is able to adjust the angle of her arm. "Oh wow, that _is_ better."

"Told you," smirks the blonde. "Also, again, it is not a fight club. It is an unofficial sparring league."

"Uh huh. For convicts."

Villanelle grins. "And ex assassins. There is also illegal gambling, so I make potentially a lot of money if I win." She recognizes a certain look in Eve's face. "Oooh. Do you find that hot?"

Eve responds rather breathily. "Well, I certainly do right at this moment," she admits. "Maybe ask me again when you're not naked on top of me and doing _that_ with your fingers."

"Mm. Deal."  
  
RING... 

"Don't answer it," says Villanelle quickly in a low, raspy voice.

"Okay," agrees Eve immediately, (if Villanelle is asking her in that tone, the answer is definitely okay.)

RING..

Shit, it's probably her mom.

"Oh fuck," says Eve, "No, wait, I have to get it - sorry, move just..." She gently pushes a grumbling Villanelle off of her and leans over to the bedside table, grabbing the phone and answering it. "Mom?"

As she realizes who is on the other end of the phone, Villanelle's eyes go wide. She clamps both hands over her own mouth instantly to muffle any noise.

Eve chuckles lightly under her breath because that's so cute, before trying to refocus on the voice in her ear. "Wait, Mom, slow down. Yeah, I uh -" she twists her head to check the digital clock next to the bed. "Yeah I'll be home soon. Like - ten minutes? Okay. See you then, love you."

Villanelle's expression could only be described as halfway between a pout and a sulk. "Ten minutes?" she repeats.

"I know," sighs Eve. "But she's making bulgogi. I'm already later than I said I'd be, because I came over here."

"Hm," remarks Villanelle. "I would say I am sorry about that, but I am not." She watches Eve get up from the bed. " _Ugh_ , fine. How long is she staying with you again?"

Eve's mouth is a thin line as searches the floor for her clothes. "That's a good question," she says. "She says two weeks but, as you have seen, she is pretty unpredictable." She pulls her sweater over her head. "Basically the flakiest person on the planet."

Villanelle frowns at the word. "Flakiest?"

"Right, uh," Eve searches for the right description. "She's just unreliable. She had me really young, and got married before she ever 'had any fun.'" She shoots Villanelle a look. "Those are her words. Anyway, ever since my dad died, she's been on this twenty year long vacation. She just moves from place to place, guy to guy, job to job." Eve shrugs. "She moved to L.A most recently I think."

"Aaahh," says Villanelle, with sudden understanding. "L.A. That explains the feather earrings."

"There you go," says Eve, smiling. She then locates her final item of clothing, a stray sock, and pulls it on. "Okay. I gotta go."

"Okay."

Eve is not quite sure why she does it - probably because she actually doesn't think in that moment at all. All she knows is the next thing she does is move over to the bed where the blonde woman is lying and lean down to kiss her, once, to say goodbye.

It's not an overly passionate kiss, it's not even particularly long. But both women linger - their lips touch softly, there is a moment of warmth. And then Eve pulls back, realizing a feeling of something distinctly different in this moment.

Realizing perhaps this gentle kiss goodbye is not a 'just friends' kiss. 

"Uh," Eve says quickly, flustered, hoping desperately her face is not too red. "Sorry. I mean. I guess I just meant to say bye."

Villanelle has not moved at all, and her expression is unreadable. "No," she says. "Don't be sorry."

"I -" Eve stands all the way up and scratches at the back of her neck awkwardly. "Okay. I mean. Sorry anyway."

Villanelle shakes her head slightly, not breaking her gaze. "Don't be," she repeats softly.

A familiar feeling twists in Eve's stomach as she looks into green brown eyes.

"I have to go," she says. "I'll - talk to you later."

She is out of there in a second, out of the bedroom, down the hall and out the door. 

Villanelle is alone then, listens to the click as her front door locks automatically as it shuts. "Bye, Eve," says the blonde quietly, out loud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Linda. Although I do not blame Villanelle for climbing out the window one bit.
> 
> Thanks always for all your feedback - more to come soon :)


	6. Vacation Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve gets cold feet, and Villanelle sees that coming from a mile away. They both look forward to some upcoming time away from the city.

**MONDAY NIGHT**   
**EVE'S KITCHEN**

"There's more, darling, if you want it?"

"No, it's okay - I'm stuffed."

Eve and Linda sit at the kitchen table, the remnants of an admittedly amazing dinner spread across it. Eve sits back in her chair, fingers fiddling with her napkin, restless.

She's left her phone in her room - volume off, screen faced down on the dresser. As if not being able to see or hear a possible message means the message doesn't exist.

Schrodinger's text.

Eve is being avoidant, she knows this. She doesn't really want to think about things with Villanelle, right now. It had been going so well... just a friendship, no pressure, no fear of ending up in another failed relationship like the one with Niko. 

And with sex. With _Villanelle_.

The ability to touch Villanelle, to kiss her, to listen to the intoxicating sounds she makes when her earlobe is sucked between Eve's teeth. The ability to give in to every breathless pang of lust she's ever had (which in the past year have been far more frequent than she can really even consciously admit to herself).

But now...

She thinks about the moment in Villanelle's apartment, thinks about warmth in her chest, the breathlessness.

Feelings she was trying to keep separated from all this... And apparently, she thinks glumly, that is failing.

"Darling? Are you okay?"

Eve's kitchen swims back into her field of view as she pulls herself from her daydreaming. She shakes her head quickly. "No, no. It's nothing, Mom, sorry. Just really full, zoning out."

"Hm, and do you really think I'm going to believe that?" asks Linda, eyebrow raised. "I am your mother, dear, and I do know I look flawlessly and eternally youthful but I've been around long enough to see through right you." She studies her daughter's face. "So. Are you going to tell me the real story with this Villanelle?"

Eve's mother is a lot of things - flighty, impulsive. Basically a sixty something year old teenager, lacking enough of an attention span to settle herself anywhere.

But wild side aside, Linda is a smart and intuitive lady with a lot of life experience, and with a lot of insight into her child. 

Eve sighs. "Do you know how many people have asked me that question, Mom?"

Linda smiles. "Do you think that maybe that fact alone tells you all you need to know?"

Maybe Eve does. "I should never have let our relationship get sexual," she says glumly. "I know. It's the biggest mistake in the book. Our friendship should have stayed just a friendship."

The older lady stares at her pointedly. "Not what I was going to say, honey."

But Eve shakes her head vehemently, already predicting the conversation. "Mom - I know you think _you_ can, but diving headfirst into every possibility of romance is just not a good idea." She looks at her mother tiredly. "I just got out of one highly painful failed relationship. I really don't think I can handle another."

Linda looks incensed. "You were with Niko for twenty years! You were married, and you loved him. That's not a failed relationship, darling." Her eyes flash passionately. "That's a _successful_ one. And you can't just go through life expecting every relationship to end up the same way. You have to give yourself the chance to be happy."

But fresh from the pain she experienced - and caused - Eve just can't see it that way. She can't unsee the look on Niko's face when he told her to leave and not come back. To piss off forever.

And she won't allow herself to even imagine what it would feel like if she heard those things from Villanelle.

No. She knows what she has to do. 

**MONDAY NIGHT**   
**VILLANELLE'S BEDROOM**

The young blonde woman stares at her ceiling, lying on her bed, still half naked, having done nothing of real consequence since Eve had rushed out, hours earlier.

Her mind is blank, unmoved. She doesn't push it - chooses to think nothing.

If she doesn't prod her thoughts, Villanelle is such a person that can stare at a ceiling for days on end. No thoughts, no feelings. She can become a blank slate. A void.

It is boring. Shatteringly so. But she is waiting for something.

Her phone buzzes on the nightstand. And buzzes again - an incoming call.

"Finally," she mutters, and reaches her hand out to pick it up without looking at the caller ID. "Eve."

"Hi," says Eve's voice in her ear.

"I have been waiting for you to call," says Villanelle. "I thought it would be sooner. Did your dinner with your mother run long?"

There's a slight pause on the line. "Yes... how did you know that?"

Villanelle smiles. She finds it kind of charming that sometimes Eve forgets who she is talking to. Someone who for years spent her time systematically analyzing people in order to predict their every move.

"Lots of experience with people, let's say," answers Villanelle. She figures Eve would prefer this modified explanation, without the addition that she usually killed the people post analyzing them.

"Right." Then there is a heavy sigh on the line, and Eve starts to speak again. "Villanelle, I think we need to-"

"Eve," says Villanelle firmly, cutting her off. "I know - you want to go back to just being friends. Stop having sex with each other. It is okay. I think it is a good idea too."

There is a long silence. Then - 

"Okay, how did you know that? Get out of my brain, it's creepy."

Villanelle smiles, hearing the clear note of relief in Eve's voice, hidden underneath the joking. She knows that she has succeeded, made the dark haired woman comfortable again. Taken away the fear that she had seen in her eyes earlier today.

"Anyway..." continues Eve. "Yeah. I think it would be good - I'm glad we're on the same page. Our friendship is the most important, right? That was what we agreed."

"Of course," says Villanelle evenly. "We will go back to the way we were. And Eve - we did it, yes? We had sex and stayed friends. I told you we could do it."

"Yeah," comes Eve's voice slowly. "Yeah, I guess we did. Pretty cool."

"Pretty cool," agrees Villanelle. "So - do you want to get coffee before your work tomorrow? You are buying, because I won the bet about friends having sex."

"Pfft - we didn't bet on anything!"

Villanelle grins, and she lies back on the bed. "Ehm, I am pretty sure that we did."

**WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON**   
**FIGHTING GYM**

Dmitri's voice is muffled by the bloody towel held to his nose. "You are strangely tricky, little Billie," he comments, speaking Russian. "I am very good, you know. Landing a blow is impressive."

Villanelle shrugs, replying in kind. "Landing a blow and avoiding all of yours," she points out. She sits next to Dmitri, sweaty, but completely unscathed. Not even a bruise, this time. "If _you_ are very good, I am going to make a lot of money here."

The large man laughs. "If you were not so strong, that kind of talk would get you in lots of trouble."

"I manage to find the trouble anyway," Villanelle assures him. 

The gym is pretty empty. Most of its members don't have traditional jobs, but it is still midday on a week day, and there are only a few stragglers. Villanelle has been here since morning - fighting one opponent after the other. Although it's true not one has managed to do much to her (minor hits, some surprising moves), she has felt like a kind of clockwork in her head has started to tick again.

A kind of itch, that is getting scratched. Adrenaline, excitement. It feels like she is doing something for only herself, for the first time in a long time.

Soft thuds and groans can be heard from the only occupied ring. Dmitri and Villanelle sit on a bench facing it, watching. Two women spar - fairly evenly matched, but not completely. 

One of them has thick, dark, curly hair. Villanelle watches closely.

"Vera," says Dmitri.

"Hm?"

He nods towards the women. "The one with the dark hair. Vera." He looks at Villanelle pointedly. "If you by chance, wanted to get to know her."

A pause. "You are observant," allows the blonde.

Dmitri brings the towel down from his nose to inspect it, before gingerly attempting an inhale. Finding his nose clear of blood, he throws the rag on the bench beside him. "Yes." He pierces Villanelle with another searching look. "Although you know, I get the feeling that you would have already had her if you wanted her." He studies Villanelle's profile as she continues to watch the fight. "What is it? You have a girlfriend? Wife?"

Villanelle's expression remains blank. "Neither."

Dmitri raises his eyebrow. "Ah," he says. "So someone you are chasing."

"No," says Villanelle, quickly, almost cutting him off. "There is no one. Only a friend."

"A friend," Dmitri repeats, a smile in his voice. 

Villanelle groans. "Really," she insists. "We have already gone down that road, we are now decided we will just be friends. It is better."

The big man crosses his arms. "You think that?"

Villanelle doesn't hesitate. "I do."

"Then you have some soul searching to do, little Billie," he remarks. "Because I can tell - you are not happy - not happy until you get what you want with her." He wipes dried blood from under his nose. "You want to be together."

Shaking her head with exasperation, Villanelle faces the dark haired man, her expression mystified. "You know, I was not expecting this heartfelt conversation here? Kind of thought it would be more blood and sweat and no mushy feelings talk."

Dmitri matches her gaze. "Don't be so stubborn," he chides firmly. "You be as tough as you want - but you listen to your heart first, or all the rest will crumble around it."

Villanelle stares at him for a moment. "Hm," she says. She leans back against wall behind the bench. "That was actually very poetic, Dmitri. You should write that down."

The big man considers this. "Hm. Thank you, Billie. Do you have a pen?"

**WEDNESDAY EVENING**   
**EVE'S LIVING ROOM**

"Honey, oh we _have_ to! It's exactly what you need."

Eve barely looks up from the television screen, choosing not to engage with the near manic level of enthusiasm her mother is exuding. The older woman is standing in the middle of the room, wearing a ostentatious flowery green shawl and a big smile. 

"I really don't think so, Mom," says Eve. She pulls her comfy blanket closer around her shoulders as she tries to focus on the movie she's watching. "I was doing so much traveling for work in Britain, I would love to just use this time to stay in and get settled in my new place."

The beads sewn into the shawl click gently as Linda waves her arms. "Nonsense! Vlad has given you a week off, let your mom take you on a trip! California! I have a beautiful little cottage in Palm Springs, darling. So peaceful. And just me and you - no men." Linda stops herself with a smile. " _Or_ leggy young women."

"Mom!"

"What, dear? I call them as I see them." She pauses. "Usually I don't see _quite_ so much of them but-"

"Okay!" cuts in Eve. "Mom, if you stop talking right now, I will go. Palm Springs. You and me."

Linda's face lights up with excitement. "Really?"

"Yes," says Eve, and in spite of herself she smiles a bit too. "It'll be nice to spend some time together." She points a finger at the older woman. "And I assume this place has a pool?"

"Oh honey, does it ever!"

**THURSDAY NIGHT**   
**COCKTAIL BAR**

Eve eyes the contents of her drink carefully. "I tried to recreate this the other day," she says. "For my mom. It was nothing like it. Your bartender man is doing something supernatural over there."

Villanelle smiles. "You just can't resist trying to crack a puzzle," she teases. "You know, Eve, sometimes it is okay to leave a good drink at just that."

"Mm," grumbles Eve. "A slow day at work today and I'm already nuts. You know Vlad is giving me next week off? I'm going to go totally insane."

Villanelle lifts an eyebrow. "A whole week? What are you going to do, watch every romantic comedy you can find on a loop?"

"That was honestly the plan," Eve admits, "But my mom had this idea we would take the week and go to Palm Springs. So instead it's a week of California." She laughs a bit. "You know my mom is into crystal readings now?"

The blonde frowns. "How do you read a crystal?"

"I'm going to find out, I guess," says Eve.

They sit in their usual booth - near the back and away from most of the foot traffic, although in full view of the bartender when they need refills. They haven't been there for a while actually, though, because up until quite recently they have been spending most of their time together exclusively in each other's bedrooms...

'Don't think about that,' thinks Eve to herself.

Villanelle turns a paper napkin over in her fingers, fiddling with the corners. "You know, you have good timing - I will be gone next week."

Eve nods with illumination, remembering. "Oh yeah - your crazy fight club tournament thing?"

"It is not a fight club," says Villanelle, the corners of her mouth twitching with amusement. "But yes. St Petersburg, we are going to see what kind of criminals their city has to pulverize." She grins widely and there is a really genuine giddiness in it.

Shaking her head, Eve smiles. "Well, of course I think that's insane, but I think I'm also proud of you? It's not exactly on the books, but you did find something you like that isn't killing people."

Villanelle lifts a shoulder in a faux modest shrug, her chin upturned a bit. "I am very multifaceted, Eve."

"Uh huh."

The bar is emptying out by now - it's a Thursday after all, and it's getting a bit late. Seeing this, Eve sighs, looking at her watch. "I should go, I do have some stuff to clear up tomorrow morning." She starts to move to get up.

"My brothers, they are going to be there," says Villanelle suddenly, without preamble.

Eve stops moving immediately and looks across the table in shock, not even sure she's heard right. "What? You have brothers? Going to be where?"

"St Petersburg," the blonde answers as if it's the most casual and mundane piece of information. "And yes - Pyotr and Borka. They live there, I am staying with them. I told Pyotr about the fighting." She frowns a bit, considering. "Not Borka yet. He is too young. He might say something to someone about it."

Eve feels as though she has randomly stumbled across a rare animal in the wild and is inches away from catching it.

By now, she has been in many intimate situations with Villanelle. They have basically stalked each other for extended periods of time. Eve has jammed a knife quite vigorously into Villanelle's stomach. And uh... a lot of other recent and very intimate moments to add to the list.

But Villanelle doesn't talk about her past. Eve gets like, one cryptic anecdote every blue moon. And a lot of unanswered questions. Eve thinks about the ballroom again - the hopelessness and pain she'd seen in the blonde's eyes. The refusing to talk about it.

But this feels like a big admission. A big opportunity.

So Eve just nods calmly. "Borka, huh. How old?"

Villanelle shrugs. "Well, I do not know exactly. A kid." And then a darkness flickers behind her eyes. "He is not actually my brother." 

Not sure whether to ask, Eve is just silent.

"My mother," starts Villanelle and oh - there is such coldness in her voice. It is absolutely bone chilling. "My mother was living with a man. Borka is the son of him." Villanelle's face is impassive. Devoid. 

If Eve didn't know her, didn't know her so deeply... she would be terrified. 

Maybe she is a little terrified anyway.

After a moment of silence, Eve just has to ask. "What happened?" she ventures quietly.

Villanelle stares at her. Her face is still - the lines of her cheekbones sharp, eyes darker than usual in the low light, closer to brown than green. It's impossible to tell what she will say, what she's thinking...

"The bill for you," says a voice in heavily accented English as Villanelle's bartender friend arrives at the table. "You will be back tomorrow?"

Eve fights to suppress an angry outburst at the interruption. 'This man makes magical, beautiful drinks,' she reminds herself firmly. 'Do not yell at the magic man.'

The moment gone, Villanelle turns and answers the bartender swiftly - in Russian. He smiles and seems delighted, quickly quipping something back, before turning politely back to Eve and saying "Have a wonderful night and vacation, my friend."

She smiles as he walks away before turning back to Villanelle in surprise, shocked enough to forget her irritation with being interrupted. "You spoke Russian!" she says. "You never speak Russian."

The blonde smiles, a bit coyly. "I am reconnecting with it." She dips her chin and peers over at Eve, with this exaggerated air of wisdom. "You cannot just avoid the past forever, you know."

Eve digest this, before adopting a playfully suspicious expression. "Be honest... have you started going to therapy?"

Laughing, Villanelle stands up, ready to go. "Does pummeling burly men in an underground gym count as therapy?"

Eve laughs too, but doesn't answer as she gets up to follow the blonde out of the cocktail bar. Honestly, she feels like maybe for Villanelle, the answer is yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that in general, the author does not advocate pummeling people for personal growth.
> 
> More to come soon, loving all the kind words, thanks and keep the feedback coming!


	7. Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve learns something about Villanelle that could change everything.

**MONDAY MORNING**   
**VILLANELLE'S APARTMENT**

Villanelle stares at her open closet door (closet number three out of four) and allows a sense of mourning to swell in her chest.

These clothes are not travel clothes, and they must be left behind from the trip. Sacrifices must be made.

Closing the door, she turns to face her open (and quite empty) suitcase, and considers just buying all new things once arriving in St Petersburg, so that she doesn't have to pack any clothes at all.

Tempting.

As this plan becomes more and more final in her head, her phone rings. Thrilled at the distraction, she practically leaps across the room for it, and further to seeing the name on the call display, she grins.

"Hello, Eve."

The voice coming through the speaker sounds immensely irritated. "Check your messages."

The phone buzzes against Villanelle's ear and she startles a bit at the feeling before bringing it down to hold before her, tapping the speaker button on the call before opening the new message. 

The message is a photo of a takeout menu, with a handwritten message scrawled across it -  
 _'Sorry, darling -_  
 _David called, he is taking me to Seoul - couldn't wait,_  
 _I'll call you soon, promise,_  
 _Mom'_

"Ugh!" exclaims Villanelle indignantly as she computes this. "That's so rude!"

Eve sighs heavily, the noise crackling through the speaker. "It may be, but honestly it's just so in character for her I'm almost not even mad anymore. Did I ever tell you about my fortieth birthday?"

Villanelle squints, trying to recall. "Bailed on dinner an hour before?"

"Bailed on dinner _and_ was supposed to be making it," Eve corrects. "We ended up ordering Indian."

Glowering as she stands by her bay window, Villanelle glares out into the city - she honestly struggles to imagine so frequently and frivolously letting Eve down like that. "I'm sorry, Eve," she says finally. "You don't deserve it."

Another sigh, but this one is more resigned. "Ah, it's alright, as I say, not the first time." Some noises echo through the phone - a thud and some rustling. "It is a pain because I already packed, but at least we were buying tickets at the airport so I'm not in the hole there."

Villanelle's brain whirs and she speaks without thinking. "Come with me. Come to St Petersburg instead."

She can almost imagine Eve's confused expression. "What?"

"You have packed already," points out Villanelle simply. "And what are you going to do alone with a week off? And without me? You will go crazy, Eve."

A laugh. "Come on, you make me sound like I'm a manic child."

Villanelle lets the following pointed silence speak for itself.

"Hey!" comes the reply, although the laugh is still present in Eve's voice. "Okay, well you're kind of right about that, but really? It's so soon and I don't -"

"Bought you a train ticket," announces Villanelle, having just completed the transaction on her phone with Eve on speaker. "You are coming. We leave in two hours, I will meet you at the station. No arguing!"

"I - Jesus." Although she does sound a bit flustered, Eve still laughs. "Okay, alright! I'll be there."

An idea occurs to Villanelle as she turns back towards her empty bag. "Eve, have you packed toiletries in your suitcase?"

"Ah - what - of course!"

"Great," grins the blonde, as she closes the lid to her own and shoves it back under her bed. "And I'm done packing!"

**MONDAY EVENING**   
**ST PETERSBURG**   
**OUTSIDE THE TRAIN STATION**

"I can't believe you didn't pack _anything_ ," says Eve, half grumbling and half laughing. 

Villanelle bites ferociously into a pirozhok as she leads the two of them out of the station. "Really?" she says, words muffled through a mouthful of meat and pastry. "It is very like me."

Snorting at that, Eve shakes her head. "Well, that's true."

They look left and right for a taxi, and Eve feels a slight twinge of nervousness. It was all well and good to jump on the back of Villanelle's impulsiveness and follow her here, but Eve keeps remembering uncomfortably that they will be staying with Villanelle's _brothers_. Such a closeness feels borderline terrifying, as when it comes down to it, she really knows next to nothing about the blonde's past.

Plus, while the highly illegal street fighting (Eve can't suppress another internal chuckle at Villanelle's chosen profession) is going on, Eve will, in theory, be alone with the brothers. What will they think of her? 

The nervousness twinges again, but this time a little bit hinged with excitement. Maybe, she wonders, this will be more illuminating and good than anything else.

They arrive at a brown bricked building, a block or so outside the city's most bustling areas. Standing on the sidewalk with her suitcase, Eve assesses it - nice, but affordable looking.

"What does your brother do? Pyotr?" she asks Villanelle as they enter.

The blonde leads them to the elevator, pressing the button. "He is good with his hands. Used to fix things at the family house in the country - so he got a maintenance job. Plumbing. Some electric stuff."

Eve is impressed. "Wow. So, how long have they been living here?"

The elevator dings, and the two of them step in. Once inside, Villanelle presses the eighth floor, and the doors close. She turns her head, and her expression is almost completely blank. "About two months."

Eve stares back at her.

Okaaay...

The elevator dings again, and with their arrival on the eighth floor, Villanelle leads the way wordlessly down the hall, Eve wheeling her suitcase along behind her and wondering, not for the first time, if it would really be that unethical to use FSB interrogation techniques on your stubborn ass friend.

**TUESDAY AFTERNOON**   
**PYOTR AND BORKA'S APARTMENT**

It turns out that Villanelle's brothers are two of the best and most hilarious human beings that Eve has ever met.

For one thing, after a day of being around him, Eve is still unsure if Pyotr is ever _not_ smiling. The infectious, genuine perma-grin has seemingly not left his face. He is one of those people that Eve immediately trusts - he is a bit simple to be sure, which helps, but is also just so unabashedly open that she is positive he's incapable of being anything but honest. 

And Borka. Well...

Eve pauses mid reflection when trying to describe Borka to herself. 'Not necessary,' she decides, and adjusts the sparkled silver sunglasses on her face and gaudy white leather jacket around her shoulders.

Borka is perfect.

"Eve," says Villanelle sternly, pointing to the glasses. "Take those off, you are cheating." The blonde squints at her. "We cannot see your murderous eyes."

Villanelle's following mischievous wink is very quick, so her brothers don't see - but Eve certainly does. Her stomach flips. 'Don't find that attractive,' she admonishes herself. 'That is _super_ fucked up to find attractive.'

She takes off the glasses. "Plain as can be," she says, and holds both palms up in a gesture of transparency. She turns to the boy to her left. "Borka, I would never kill you. You know who it was." She nods dramatically across the table.

"Eve," gasps Pyotr (although he is still somehow smiling). "I thought we were friends!"

But Borka raises his arm suddenly, pointing away from his brother. "I know it was not you, Pyotr!" he says assuredly. His finger raises across the table. "Oksana!"

Eve watches as the accused turns her card around, slowly, her smile coy. "Not me," Villanelle says innocently.

Borka looks flabbergasted. "What? Then who..."

Eve smiles, far too pleased with herself, turning her own card around. "Sorry, buddy," she says.

"EVE!" Borka's feathered hat flies off his head in his distress.

But Eve is looking to her right, fixated on the once again, annoyingly attractive look on Villanelle's face.

The blonde is grinning wide, positively delighted.

 **TUESDAY NIGHT**  
 **PYOTR AND BORKA'S APARTMENT**  
 **LIVING ROOM**

Pyotr points to the open album on Eve's lap. "There - you see it?" He points to the photo next to it. "It is our noses. We have the same ones."

Eve laughs gently, transfixed. She compares the babies photographed before her. "I see it," she responds quietly. She shakes her head, examining the photo on the left. "She has kind of a funny shaped head."

Pyotr laughs. "She does."

There's a moment more of silence as Eve flips through pages. It's after dinner, quite late - Borka is already asleep, and Villanelle has left for the first of her fights. 

Eve and Pyotr had pulled out the photo album almost immediately.

It wasn't long after that, that Pyotr had mentioned the album was one of the few things he had left from his childhood home. He had kept it out in the barn he used to sleep in, and so it survived the _very_ recent fire.

"You know, Vil- Oksana didn't tell me about the fire," says Eve, looking at a photo of the house in the photo album. "Or that your mother - didn't make it."

Pyotr shrugs. "It is not surprising," he says. "Oksana is quiet. Even when she visited, she did not talk about herself much." He shifts on the couch, thinking. "She did not say, but you could tell she was..." He frowns, the look foreign on his face. "She was upset still, with my mother. You know she was left at orphanage? Mother did not come back for her."

Eve's heart drops in her chest at that. A lump appears in her throat, and she swallows, trying to speak around it, keep her voice steady. "I did not know that," she says quietly.

Pyotr raises his eyebrows briefly, before shaking his head, his smile a bit sad. "She did not tell you. I guess again - that is not surprising."

Staring with glassy eyes at the photo album, Eve sighs. "I guess not, but - I wish she had told me."

"You care about her, a lot."

It's not a question, but Eve nods in answer anyway.

"I care about her too," says Pyotr, and the fierce truth of that can be heard in his voice. "You know - I was scared she was dead in the fire too." He breathes a sigh of relief. "But she told me later that she left just before it happened - after leaving the money for Borka."

Eve hears the words. Thinks about them. _She left just before it happened_...

Just before the fire that killed her mother happened. The mother that abandoned her. Hmm. 

Eve speaks slowly, wheels turning in her head. "Is that how you got this place? With the Elton money?"

Pyotr cocks his head. "Sort of. It is how we managed to move here, but Oksana called us soon after that. She said she heard about the house and that whenever Elton comes she will still pay for tickets." He smiles. "She is very kind person."

A complicated array of emotions fight for significance in Eve's chest. She looks up, and into Pyotr's trusting eyes. "She is a lot of things," she says quietly.

**TUESDAY NIGHT**   
**VERY LATE**   
**PYOTR AND BORKA'S APARTMENT**   
**LIVING ROOM**

While Eve and Villanelle are staying with the brothers, who have only two bedrooms, Pyotr and Borka had graciously moved to bunk together, giving Eve Borka's room. Villanelle had situated herself to sleep on the couch - advising to everyone that she gets up early, anyway.

Eve is not in her bedroom when Villanelle returns after her fight.

She is sitting on the couch, alone, waiting.

The door creaks open at around two or three am - and Eve watches as a tall figure wearing a leather jacket and loose fitting pants quietly makes her way into the room.

"Hi," says Eve.

Villanelle doesn't startle, but rather just turns slowly to look at the dark haired woman on the couch. In an instant, she appears to take in the scene, the look on Eve's face. "Hi," she says back.

Slowly, the blonde drops some bags she's carrying, and moves across the room to sit next to Eve on the couch. She smells of adrenaline - an endorphin rich, sweaty smell, which doesn't by any means smell bad, rather just a bit metallic. She has a darkening bruise on her cheek, and her hair is pulled back in a bun that was probably neat at one point, but is mussed and untidy now. 

For a second, they just look at each other.

"You know," says Villanelle, direct and plain. 

Eve holds her gaze, replies just as plainly. "Yes."

"You know everything."

Eve nods, slow. "I think so, yes."

"Mm." The blonde looks away for a moment, eyes raking over the walls, face impassive. "Yes. I thought you would figure it out."

It is this fact that makes Eve sit up straighter, lean forward towards the other woman on the couch. "See - that's what gets me here, Villanelle," she says, eyes searching the blonde's face. "Of course you had to have known I would figure it all out from talking to Pyotr." She frowns. "Why would you not just tell me, before?"

Villanelle doesn't answer right away. A muscle works in her jaw, and she takes a breath in harshly through her nose. "I - I have trouble," she starts, and her voice wavers and it is so, so strange to see her like this. "I have trouble with it." And she turns her head slightly to face Eve and her eyes are hard, but soft. "All of it. I didn't know if I would be able to talk about it."

Eve just watches her. "This is why you don't want to kill anyone anymore," she says, already knowing it's true.

Seemingly unable to continue holding eye contact, Villanelle turns to face forward again, leans her body a bit over her knees, looking over the couch at her feet. "My mother said that I was full of darkness." Her tone is even and flat. "She was not sorry for leaving me." A pause, for a moment more. "So I killed her."

It is quiet, then. Eve sits next to Villanelle on the couch, and she hears what she already knew - that this beautiful woman had grown up thinking that no one had wanted her, that she was damaged and evil. She had murdered and tortured and had willingly and knowingly embraced an identity of a psychopathic killer. She had returned to her family on a leap of faith that maybe they did care - and she had been shot down.

And then she had killed her mother, because killing was all anyone had ever told her she was good for.

Anger swells in Eve's chest, a fierce wave of protectiveness over this complicated, flawed woman before her who never got to be told by anyone how much she was worth, never got to be told by anyone that - 

"I love you, Villanelle." The words tumble out on their own.

Electricity rushes through the air.

Even in the dark, the sheer and utter bewilderment that floods into Villanelle's face can be seen so clearly. Mouth dropping open, the blonde turns her head, slowly, and looks deep into Eve's eyes. "What?" she whispers.

Eve didn't think before saying it, and she doesn't think now. "You knew already," she replies simply. "But you deserve to hear it out loud."

There is a quaking sort of silence, like the quiet before a crack of lightning.

And then Villanelle pitches forward, catching Eve in a fierce and hungry kiss.

**BEDROOM**

They make it into the room, but they don't make it to the bed.

There's not enough time - there's no back and forth, no room for even a word between them as Villanelle pushes Eve gently against the now closed door.

Their bodies press against each other and it's a miracle they manage to remove any clothing, given their unwillingness to break the contact between their hips, the fingers buried deep in each other’s hair.

But they do. 

It's urgent, but it's not quick.

It's wordless, but unspeakably intimate.

It's meaningful, thinks Villanelle. Different than before.

It's nice, thinks Eve. Just really nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh ohhhhhhh.
> 
> More to come soonnn....


	8. Weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle confronts Eve, but neither of them is backing down.

**WEDNESDAY MORNING**   
**TOO EARLY**   
**BORKA'S BEDROOM**

Villanelle wakes when a ray of light peeking through the blinds moves just high enough to reach her eyes. "Ugnnhnnn." Rolling over with almost a hiss at the intrusion, she takes a deep breath in.

Steadying herself, she opens her eyes blearily. Before her, an empty bed, sheets tangled with the ghost of another person who had slept there, and gone.

She frowns.

The bedroom door creaks as Villanelle pushes it open, her bare feet soft against the cold floor, wrapped in a robe she found in Borka's closet. Peering toward the living room, she sees the back of Eve's head, the dark haired woman sitting on the couch, quiet.

"Eve?"

Eve's head turns as Villanelle approaches, and she smiles softly. "You're up."

Nodding, the blonde walks around the couch to the front side, lifts a leg and perches herself on the armrest. She peers into Eve’s face, tentatively. “So are you,” she says. “And you’re out on the couch.”

Eve lifts an eyebrow. “I am,” she replies. “Thought it would be better if one of us was out here, you know?” She keeps her voice low, and her eyes flit over to the closed door of Pyotr’s room. “Just in case they got up.”

Villanelle is quiet for a second before nodding. “Of course.”

For a moment, the only sound is the faint one of the dawn chorus - birds calling to each other in the early spring morning.

Eve is still, and her eyes flit searchingly across Villanelle’s face. “Are you okay?” she asks.

Nodding, the blonde’s expression is clear, unruffled. “Yes,” she answers. “Are you okay?”

Eve nods, face equally open. “Yeah.”

“Okay. That’s good.”

“Yeah.” And Eve smiles. “All good.”

**PYOTR AND BORKA'S APARTMENT**   
**KITCHEN**   
**AN HOUR OR SO LATER**

Pyotr makes something that is supposed to be a pancake, but which instead, is terrible.

"I followed the instruction!" the frowning young man stares at the burnt yet still somehow partially uncooked mass in the pan. "How did it go wrong? It is devil food."

Villanelle peers over his shoulder at the breakfast attempt. "Perhaps it is you, and not the pancakes," she suggests flatly.

"Hey!" scolds Eve, elbowing the blonde out of the way. "Pyotr, don't listen to her. She's mean about cooking."

A look of deep amusement comes over Villanelle's face. "Eve, are you suggesting that the hour long sessions of smoke and cursing you have in the kitchen is 'cooking'?"

" _Hey_!"

Villanelle mutters to Pyotr. "We had to call the fire department once. Pot roast."

Eve throws up her hands. "The oven was faulty!"

Villanelle whispers again to her brother, quite loudly. "The oven was _not_ faulty."

"Why are you like this?" says Eve, but she's smiling - seemingly unable to hold it back completely.

The blonde cheekily shrugs one shoulder in answer, smiling too.

"Aw," says Pyotr, glancing between the two of them happily. "You are very sweet. What is the phrase? Fighting like married couple."

Villanelle rolls her eyes and lightly shoves Pyotr's shoulder - Eve however, suddenly looks distinctly uncomfortable. "I'm going to go check on Borka," she announces, not looking at either of them in the eye. "He has to be awake by now."

Swiftly, she turns and exits the kitchen, Villanelle and Pyotr watching her leave. "Hmm," says Pyotr, and turns to look at his sister. "I said something?"

Villanelle's tone is light, but a shadow of a frown creases her forehead. "She is fine," she says. And then she looks directly at him. "You know we are not together."

He nods, and turns back around to the blackened frying pan - he shakes it over the bin, dumping out the sad pancake remains. "I know, it was a joke." His eyes flit over to Villanelle's meaningfully, after a moment. "But seems to have hit a nerve, no?"

Villanelle looks at the empty doorway of the kitchen, and doesn't answer.

For a minute or so there is relative silence, only broken by the sounds of Pyotr continuing to scrape the frying pan. 

But then -

" _Pyotr_!!" 

Borka's enthusiastic shout from the hallway startles his brother into dropping the pan directly into the bin.

"Agh! - okay, what is it, Borka?"

The boy appears in the doorway to the kitchen with a flourish. He is still in pajamas, but his eyelids are quite notably painted with a soft pink hue, and mascara is adorning his eyelashes. His expression can only be described as ecstatic. "Eve showed me makeup!" he says, delighted. "But she only has some of the colours. Can we go out and get more!?! Look at how cool it looks!"

Villanelle turns around to look at Pyotr very slowly, joy spreading over her face in an almost manic way, her eyes very wide and mouth dropped open in an ear to ear grin.

Pyotr points first at his sister. "You look scary," he says firmly. And then he turns to his brother, nodding in approval. "But you are right, you look so cool! We will go out for more colours."

Eve appears in the doorway, smiling proudly - while Villanelle, who has now had enough time to find words, cannot hold them in any longer. 

"We are going to find him SPARKLES."

**ST PETERSBURG**   
**AFTERNOON**   
**EVERY COSMETIC STORE THEY CAN FIND**

Villanelle thoroughly relishes the opportunity to be outrageous. It is one of her favourite things.

Spending probably far too much money on expensive make up? Utilizing every tester possible? Using her favourite phrase - 'We'll take this, too'?

They make the rounds through a couple different stores, both Villanelle and Borka getting increasingly giddy with each one, and Pyotr, to his credit, providing endless positive feedback, and even allowing his sister to do his mascara.

"Wow," he says with genuine wonder, looking at his reflection. "My eyelashes are so long! It is magic."

"Eve, you are next," says Villanelle, grinning. She waves a hand at the chair recently vacated by Pyotr, eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Oh nooo," protests Eve, "No way - I'm good."

"Come onnn-"

"Yes, Eve! Your turn!"

Borka's voice chimes in to aid Villanelle's impassioned plea, the young boy's cheeks adorned with glitter and blush. 

Her resolve rapidly deflating with the sight of this enthusiasm, Eve groans halfheartedly and slides into the chair. She fixes Villanelle with a stern look. "Tasteful," she commands firmly.

"Of course," smiles the blonde, looking perhaps more villainous than Eve has ever seen her.

"Vil - _Oksana_!" 

Rolling her eyes, Villanelle sighs, conceding. "Ugh, fine. You are so boring, Eve."

"Yeah, and I'd like to keep it that way," she says, ensuring to keep her tone very serious. But she smiles.

Villanelle works diligently and without much expression throughout the process - brushing product on gently, making quiet humming noises as she picks between this tone and that tone. She'll speak occasionally - asking Eve to widen her eyes, or open her mouth.

Pyotr and Borka wander off after a few minutes, browsing another section of the store.

And then finally - Villanelle steps back, announcing; "Done." She gives her work a short nod of self approval, and then produces a mirror for Eve to look in, standing behind her so they both can see.

It's... it's wow.

"Wow," says Eve softly, as she looks into the mirror. "You actually did... an amazing job. Thank you."

Villanelle meets her eyes in the mirror. "You are gorgeous, Eve," she says simply. "It was not hard."

Eve feels the gentle touch of a hand on her shoulder - and the gesture is warm, intimate.

Alarm bells sounding in her head, Eve shoots up from the seat. "Yeah. Thanks," she says quickly, looking anywhere but Villanelle's face.

And she's across the store in an instant, chatting with Pyotr.

And Villanelle is standing in the same spot, makeup brush still in hand - eyes narrowing slightly.

Hmm.

**ST PETERSBURG**   
**INTO THE EVENING**

Eve is weird the whole rest of the day.

Like the moment in the kitchen, and later in the store - she is avoiding. Villanelle notices the little things - Eve walking just a little faster so as not to brush her arm getting on the bus. Eve running across the street for a coffee just when Pyotr and Borka go into a store to use the toilets. 

Just. Weird.

They settle in the living room when they return to the apartment. Pyotr disappears to the kitchen, vowing he is better at cooking dinner than breakfast - and Borka, giddy from his day of glamour, pulls out a deck of cards, ensuring Villanelle he can make a five story castle.

The first two tries don't make it past one story, but the boy is undeterred. "I am warming up, Oksana," he says firmly. "The table wobbles. Can you hold it?"

Very familiar with the 'it's not my fault, it's the equipment' excuse, Villanelle nods. She grasps one of the table legs, and then looks over at the couch, where Eve is sitting. She looks pointedly at the space beside her. "Come help, Eve?"

Eve's eyes move to the spot next to Villanelle and there it is again - that look. "Uh, I actually just wanted to go look for something in my bag," she says. She stands. "You guys go ahead."

Villanelle watches fixedly as Eve walks over down the hall, her footsteps echoing into Borka's bedroom.

Mhm.

"I will be right back," she says to Borka, who is staring dejectedly at once again fallen cards. "Try again. If it does not work, we will go get glue."

Leaving the glittery eyed boy to his next attempt, Villanelle gets up, and follows Eve into the bedroom.

As she enters, she closes the door behind her.

Eve startles at the sound, turning around from her open suitcase to look questioningly at the blonde. "Villanelle? What's going on, do you need-"

But in a smooth and deliberate motion, Villanelle moves across the room, steely eyed and serious. She is level with Eve, and then she lifts her hands - one she places on the other woman's elbow, the other on her shoulder. Effortlessly and quickly, she maneuvers her around the suitcase on the floor, and backs her up against the wall, their bodies almost flush.

Eve, cut off and caught off guard, can only let out a small gasp, staring into hypnotic green eyes, the smell of Villanelle in her nose - hot, intense, like thunder.

"You are annoying me, Eve," breathes the blonde, and they are so close she only needs to whisper - but the words echo in Eve's ears as if she has shouted. "You are not making sense."

Eve blinks nervously and her tongue flicks out over her top lip. Villanelle watches her throat move as she swallows. "I don't -"

"Is this about last night?" Villanelle doesn't wait for her to finish speaking, because she knows it is. "You can't look at me." She pushes her hips forward - just slightly, just enough to press the dark haired woman a little firmer against the wall. "You won't touch me."

Eve's heartbeat pounds in her chest, and Villanelle can feel it in hers. Voice faint, the dark haired woman speaks, "Last night - no - it was just sex, it didn't mean anything, you know that..." 

Villanelle's eyes narrow.

Villanelle knows what she had agreed to, with this 'friends' situation. Knows that Eve has her hang ups about relationships and that she doesn't want to get in to one. And it was fine, for a while. But after last night... Villanelle knows what meaningless sex feels like. 

Last night was _not_ meaningless sex.

A beat. And then she speaks. "That is stupid, Eve. I have realized that now." She shakes her head, very slightly. "Have you not? Do you really still think that we are just friends?"

Eve frowns, her lips moving soundlessly before she speaks. "You know I can't - I can't be with you." She looks up at the blonde, diminutive, helpless. "I can't be with anyone."

"You love me," states Villanelle calmly.

"I ... yes," admits Eve. "I do, but..."

But Villanelle has had enough. She steps back, releasing her grip on Eve's body, still so achingly calm, so unruffled. She carefully straightens her shirt where it is slightly askew. "You know," she starts, and her voice is just as measured, just as confident as her posture. "I have done a lot of thinking, since that night with the fire. The night I killed my mother."

Eve can't help but startle a bit at the sudden change of subject, but stays quiet, listening.

Villanelle continues. "I broke down," she says calmly. "Everything in me broke down, and I had to rebuild it. I came back to the country I had run away from." Something flits behind her eyes. "Back to old memories. And you know what I did? I faced all of it."

Eve blinks, transfixed.

"I am not running, anymore," the blonde continues. "I have been through a lot of shit, but I am done being who other people want me to be."

And then - Villanelle shrugs a shoulder, gently. Her eyes bore into Eve's. "You are not the only one with feelings," she finishes quietly. "But I am not going to run from mine."

Eve feels... she doesn't know how she feels. She doesn't know what to say. She just knows what she wants to do, burns to do. 

But she can't, she can't.... 

"Villanelle..." she starts to say.

"Nope," replies the blonde quickly. "You are not being honest with yourself, or being fair to me. And I am sick of that, Eve." Her eyes flash, and then she turns, moving towards the door. She stops with her hand on the knob, and speaks again, over her shoulder. "You have to go. I will get you a ticket home."

"Villanelle-"

"No arguing." And the door is open, and she is walking out. She turns her head, fixes Eve with one last piercing look. "I will be back in a couple days too. You shouldn't call."

And the door is closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the point in the movie where there's sad music playing. Maybe someone is gazing mournfully out a window?
> 
> Feel the vibe. 
> 
> Two chapters left!!


	9. Not Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve and Villanelle deal with the realities of not being in each others' lives.

**MOSCOW**   
**THURSDAY MORNING**   
**FSB**

Eve sits at her desk, frowning at the grainy surveillance video she's watching. In it, she sees Carolyn standing at the window of her MI6 office, unmoving.

"Come on," mutters Eve. All they need is one incriminating move, and Carolyn is toast in their upcoming case.

After a moment, the image moves, as the woman turns away to face in to the office. Eve leans forward unexpectedly. 

But then Carolyn looks up, directly at the camera. And - you would miss it if you blinked - she lifts her hand to adjust her glasses... and _waves at the camera_.

"Oh come on!!" Eve exclaims. 

She kicks over the plastic bin beneath her desk.

"Ah, you have seen the footage."

Looking up, Eve sees Vlad leaning on her doorframe, the look of disappointment on his face somewhat akin to a casual football fan whose team had just lost a match. He shrugs. "It appears she is on to us."

Eve stares at him urgently. "What does this mean? Is she going to tip off the Twelve, is our whole operation blown?"

"No, no," replies Vlad. "She appears to be distancing herself - getting rid of things that tie her to the organization. We have a good case on MI6, but it seems unlikely we will be able to incriminate her personally in any way."

Eve looks back at the screen. Carolyn is now unwrapping what appears to be a corned beef sandwich.

"A shame," continues Vlad. But then he looks vaguely thoughtful. "However, it is rather impressive."

Eve shakes her head in wonder, staring at the screen still. "She's totally evil," she comments. "But yeah, you kind of root for her, don't you?"

Vlad smiles briefly before shooting Eve a pointed look. "You are supposed to be on vacation."

She bristles. Here it comes. "I came back early. I have enough to do here, it's fine."

The tall man steps into her office, walking forward and settling himself into a chair opposite her desk. "Eve," he says firmly. "You know why I gave you the week off?"

Making a face at him, Eve mutters one of her least favourite phrases. "Work-life balance..."

"That is right. And why is that important?"

Eve makes a noise of exasperation. "Vlad, I know why it's important, I just..." She trails off. "Life gets complicated sometimes. I just felt like concentrating on something else for a while."

There's silence for a moment.

"Do you want to talk about it?" asks Vlad.

"Absolutely not."

"Are you sure?"

"I really am." She sighs tiredly and fixes him with what she hopes is a determined look. "Seriously."

Something about her tone finally deters him, and he gets up, walking back toward the hall.

Eve frowns, watching him. "What, that's it? You're just letting it be, without even knowing what it's about? You're way nosier than that."

Vlad turns his head as he leaves, so Eve can see the half smile. "You are grumpy and hiding at work. I know what it is about," he says simply. "With my wife, I find it helps to call and apologize."

Sputtering with indigence, Eve glares after him. She clicks furiously at her mouse, opening another surveillance video, in protest.

Vlad doesn't know what he's talking about. She is not calling to apologize. No way.

She has nothing to apologize for.

**NOT FRIENDS**

Eve is a pretty stubborn person, but she can admit this to herself at least... Not having Villanelle in her life sucks.

Since she arrives home Wednesday night, into Saturday morning, she feels like there is a distinct sense of fogginess hovering around her. She looks at her phone, and there are occasionally messages - some from Vlad, or people from work. 

None from Villanelle. 

She's not expecting them... but at the same time, she is. This is what they do, they talk, they check in. 

So every time her phone buzzes, Eve finds herself jumping for it. One such time, late on Saturday morning, she sees a familiar number - just not the one she's looking for. She groans.

_Mom:_   
_Hey honey, I'm SO sorry! I'm in Moscow. Can we get coffee?_

**SATURDAY AFTERNOON**   
**COFFEE SHOP**

"This doesn't mean you're allowed back to stay with me," says Eve firmly, sitting down with two coffees at the table.

Linda shakes her head emphatically. "No darling, of course - I'm living with David, in California." She looks delicately across the table, and reaches to take Eve's hand. "I just wanted to apologize, again. It really was awful of me to cancel on you."

Eve sighs heavily. She briefly considers making a point of it all and storming out after an angry speech - but ultimately decides maybe this isn't a battle she wants to be fighting. 

It's her mother, after all. 

"It's okay, Mom," she says. "Well, it isn't okay, it was shitty of you, but I'm glad it worked out with David. And thank you for saying sorry."

The corners of Linda's eyes crinkle as she smiles. "Oh thank you so much for understanding - you're really the best daughter a mother could ask for."

Eve rolls her eyes. "You're paying for the coffees."

Linda squeezes her hand, before sitting back in her seat. "So, dear, you have to tell me how you've been." She raises her eyebrows suggestively. "How is your pretty blonde friend?"

Eve knew this question was coming but still feels the painful jab in her stomach. She tries not to show anything on her face and sips at her coffee for something to do. "That's over."

"Oh honey, no..."

"Mom, I really don't need a lecture -"

"Eve!" With frankly uncharacteristic firmness, Linda places her coffee down on the table and looks sternly at her daughter. "I'm not trying to lecture you, I just want you to think about what you're doing." She leans forward. " _Why_ is it over?"

Eve stares uneasily across the table, unaccustomed to this air of discipline. "I - agh, I really don't want to get into it, Mom."

Linda is silent for a moment, and then speaks, with a note of utmost confidence. "You have feelings for each other and that scares you."

Eve opens her mouth to argue but then quickly closes it.

"Mm," says Linda knowingly. She nods to herself before speaking again. "Well, I know there's nothing I can say to change your mind." Another little nod. "But it's okay. I know you will realize on your own." She picks up her coffee again and takes a sip. "I hope it's soon."

A little shocked at this, Eve is quiet for a moment. She sips at her own coffee. "Did your crystals tell you that?" she ventures tentatively.

Linda smiles gently. "No dear - my mother's intuition." But then she taps a finger to her temple. "If you do want to know, though - the crystals spoke to me again last week..."

Eve smiles to herself as she settles in to listen, all the while trying to ignore the sadness she feels when she remembers there will be no Villanelle to talk to about this later.

**SUNDAY MORNING**   
**TRAIN TO MOSCOW**

Villanelle sighs loudly for the fifth time, and Dmitri finally looks up at her. "Has anyone ever told you that you are very irritating?" he says flatly.

She narrows her eyes at him with a wry smile. "People do. But only ever one time each."

The big man gives a low chuckle.

They are about two hours into the trip, and Villanelle is bored. She has already counted the money she's won (twice), as well as taken inventory of all her shopping bags (three times.) She has eaten her lunch, as well as half of Dmitri's (not with his permission.)

She has not picked up her phone at all, however. Even if there is a message from Eve, she has made it abundantly clear to them both that she will not be answering it.

Villanelle is certain she is right in her decision (she usually is, but _particularly_ now). However... Eve entertains her. She is funny and interesting and usually Villanelle can make the boredom go away by talking to her.

She leans her head back against her seat and groans. Doing the right thing is so tiresome.

"Okay, Billie," sighs Dmitri patiently, placing his book down on the seat next to him. "You have my attention. Do you want to talk about what it is that is bothering you?"

Villanelle wrinkles her nose. "I am not bothered," she says firmly. "I am bored. It is a boring train."

Dmitri raises his eyebrows. "Okay. Well you came in on the boring train just fine."

She glares. "I had better company on the way in."

The eyebrows raise higher. "Did you? Aha - your _friend_ , I imagine." When he doesn't receive a response to that, Dmitri continues. "Okay. And where is your better company now?"

Villanelle shrugs. "I sent her home. She has some thinking to do." Looking out the window, she avoids Dmitri's eyes for a moment. "We are not just friends," she says finally.

"Mm," hums the big man in approval. "I am glad you realized. So what now? You wait until she realizes too?"

Turning back to him, she stares. "Yes."

There is a moment before he speaks, where Dmitri just surveys her. "I hope she does," he says, his voice sincere.

Villanelle frowns. "You hope?"

He seems he is picking his words carefully. "Billie, I think you are doing the right thing."

"Obviously."

Dmitri allows that. "Right," he says. "But you should protect your heart, too. Prepare yourself to not hear back from her." His voice is gentle. "Some people, even when something is right... they just can't understand."

Bristling, Villanelle looks out the window again. "I am prepared," she says firmly. "Of course."

The countryside flickers by, while she watches. Dmitri goes back to his book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's like ten minutes left in the movie, what's going to happennnnn
> 
> Home stretch! 
> 
> See you for the final chapter soon, thanks so much for joining on this weird journey.


	10. Closing Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve gets a realization, and VIllanelle gets a surprise.

**EVE'S APARTMENT**   
**SUNDAY AFTERNOON**   
**LIVING ROOM**

Eve sits on her couch, still in her sleep clothes. She's wrapped in her comfy blanket, face screwed up as she watches the scene on the screen unfold.

It's been a shit day. A shit week, if she's being honest. So in an attempt to make herself feel better, she's switched on one of her favourite dumb romcoms, to remind her that love is stupid and who needs it, really.

Better to be safe. Alone. No one at any risk of being hurt.

On screen, the movie is coming to its final moments. Running through the rain, the man reaches the woman he's chasing. The music swells, all inspiring and heartfelt.

Eve is transfixed - she's seen this movie already, maybe too many times. But somehow, every time that same emotion - that moved emotion - wells up in her chest. Every time, she's amazed.

She watches the woman in the movie, unable to resist the man's impassioned declaration of love, and the two of them kiss as the music reaches a joyful crescendo.

Eve rolls her eyes.

It's such bullshit.

She watches the scene end, and the music changes to a pop song. She wonders briefly what she'll watch next. Maybe something with a makeover, or a bet gone wrong. She reaches for the remote, lifting it to switch the movie off, like she always does. And then she frowns slightly.

It is bullshit. That's for sure. 

But for some reason, at the end of this movie she's seen a billion times... This time she listens to the words of the song, watching the credits roll.

_I know who I want to take me home_   
_I know who I want to take me home_

She stares at the screen, feeling her heart start to beat faster.

_I know who I want to take me home_   
_Take me home..._

And it all starts to crash over her all at once. Waves of this stupid, bullshit realization.

All that matters, all that _ever_ mattered, was who she wanted taking her home at the end of the day.

_Take me home..._

All her fear - all her anxiety, and what ifs, and playing it safe. Every time she thought 'Oh, what if it goes wrong...'

_Take me home..._

All of it. Is bullshit.

_Closing time,_   
_You don't have to go home but you can't stay here..._

Out loud in her empty apartment, she speaks.

"Fuck."

**MOSCOW**   
**ROOFTOP**   
**SUNDAY NIGHT - LATE**

After she had dropped off all her shopping back at her apartment, Villanelle had spent a good deal of time wandering the city, restless, and not quite settled.

She had found her way to the rooftop fairly quickly, hoping the view would assert something for her. She paced. She closed her eyes, feeling the breeze on her face. She watched the sun set, when it went down.

That was a while ago now.

Villanelle still sits on the rooftop, looking up at the sky, counting the visible stars. She notes that there are less stars now, comparing to when she lived in Moscow all those years ago.

She doesn't know how that makes her feel. She searches inside herself for the answers, but emotions seem to be extra hard to grasp at today. 

She sighs. Figures. She gets up, stretching, and peers out at the city. She strains to hear distinct sounds. Tries to make out voices, music. Horns playing the Russian national anthem.

Wait. Why can she so clearly hear the Russian national anthem...

"If you were a normal girl," comes Eve's voice from behind her. "That would probably be like, John Mayer or something."

Startled, Villanelle turns around. And there she is.

Eve stands just past the stairs, maybe twenty metres away. She's wearing that damn ever present coat, and holding what appears to be a piece of white lined paper. The moon is bright, so Villanelle can pretty clearly see the expression on her face - which is a rather sheepish smile. Next to her, on the ground, is a small portable speaker, which sure enough, is playing the Russian national anthem.

"Eve..." says Villanelle slowly. Her eyes rake over the scene again, trying to figure out what the strangest thing is, so she can ask about that, first.

Luckily, Eve seems to read her mind. She clears her throat, a little awkwardly, and holds up the piece of paper in her hand. She takes a step closer.

"I thought you would be up here," she explains. "Your sanctuary above the city. I figured better to find you, I didn't know if you would pick up a call. And then... I was trying to figure out how the hell I was going to do this."

Villanelle shakes her head, still feeling stunned. "How you were going to do what?" she asks slowly.

"How I could possibly convey just how much of a total idiot I've been." The words come out kind of all in a rush - blurred together with feeling. Eve's face is painted with a blend of remorse and nerves. But then she smiles, a little weakly, holding up the paper in her hand. "Luckily, there is a whole genre of movies at my disposal that gave me a list of useful romantic cliches."

Villanelle laughs, astonished. "What, did you google ... rom com apology?"

Eve lifts a shoulder in a sheepish shrug. "Rom com grand gestures, but yeah." Then she points a finger at her. "Now pay attention, will you? I worked hard on my homework."

Villanelle is now starting to feel like she can't stop smiling.

"First, I came to Number One - _the boombox playing the meaningful song_." She motions to the speaker beside her. "Best I could find on short notice," she explains, smiling. "Hope it's melodic enough for you."

"It is," confirms the blonde, laughing a bit.

"Perfect, check number one," says Eve. She looks down to her list. "Okay - Number Two: _Chase her last minute as she attempts to board a plane or train_." She peers over the top of the paper and sighs. "As we have touched on, embarrassingly I have already done this and as a result I'm just going to move right along."

Villanelle bites back another laugh with great difficulty.

"So then I came to Number Three: _Over the top declaration of repentance, accompanied by fully admitting all their mistakes and desperately seeking forgiveness_." She drops the arm holding the paper to her side, and looks up to meet Villanelle's eyes. "I figured I could for sure give that a go."

Feeling like maybe she just wants to cut to the chase and kiss this idiotic woman, Villanelle starts to protest. "Eve, you don't have to-"

"No," Eve says firmly. "I'm going to, because you deserve it. Just listen?" 

When Villanelle falls silent, Eve gives a large exhale, and begins.

"I have been such a total idiot," she says. "I messed up. I was scared. Look at what happened with Niko - of course I was scared." She sighs heavily, but then locks eyes with Villanelle. "I let my fear get to me. I pushed you away, I messed with your head, I ... I'm just. I'm so sorry, Villanelle." 

Villanelle smiles too. "Thank you, Eve."

"I mean it, you know." Eve shakes her head, staring at the ground. "I was just scared of... messing things up. Losing you _forever_..."

"You couldn't-"

"Maybe I could though," cuts in Eve. "That's the thing. There's no way I can guarantee everything is going to work out. Maybe I _will_ screw it up. But that's the point of all this... the point I was missing. It's risky. It's not guaranteed." She shrugs, smiling. "But I want you anyway."

Unable to wait any longer, Villanelle moves quickly forward and erases the distance between them. Reaching the other woman, she takes her free hand. "Good," the blonde says, leaning closer. "You should have me." She nods to the paper still grasped in Eve's other hand. "Anything else, on your list?"

"Oh uh, yeah. Number Four: _a kiss in the rain_ ," adds Eve. She peers up into the sky. "I was going to do that if it was raining, but I guess it's not."

Villanelle smiles slowly. "You know you could... even without the rain?"

Eve's eyes get wide. "Oh right!" she laughs, shoving the list in her pocket.

They've kissed many times before. The first time, on the bus, awkward and panicked, and dangerous. The second time, in Eve's apartment - a seal of a promise. To remain friends, no matter what.

Countless times after - slow, fast, breathless - all under the same guise, that the friendship was all there was going to be.

This kiss is like those - amazing. But there's an added spark, an excitement, an admission....

A beginning.

Villanelle pulls back. She blinks, feeling wetness on her cheek. "You're crying," she realizes.

Eve is. She sniffs, and glares the best she can muster. "I've had a very emotional evening." Her voice cracks.

Villanelle chuckles.

They stand there, heads leaning together, foreheads still touching. Eve sniffing quietly, lifting a hand to brush away a tear.

And then Villanelle pulls her head away, eyes curious, looking down at the speaker. "Eve," she says. "Is this... South Africa's national anthem now?"

"Oh." Eve looks down too. "Oh. Yeah, I guess. It's a playlist."

Villanelle looks back at her. "We should probably turn that off. Russia is a bad place to exhibit national pride for other countries."

Eve's eyes get very wide. "Oh, shit," she says, immediately dropping to the ground.

**MOSCOW**   
**STREETLEVEL**

The two of them stand on the sidewalk for a moment, looking out at the people and the city. And then Villanelle turns to Eve, expression quizzical. "What do we do now?"

Eve smiles. She glances sideways at the blonde. "Have our first date?"

Villanelle raises her eyebrows, nodding. "Mm. Cute."

They're in bed within twenty minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's our show!
> 
> One last disclaimer, I don't own Killing Eve or Friends with Benefits but I loved adapting their characters, plot lines and soundtrack :)
> 
> A hugeee thank you to everyone who has read, liked, and commented - I have had so much fun combining two of my favourite (and drastically different) pieces of media into one!
> 
> I would like to leave you with a line from Friends with Benefits I was regretfully unable to fit into this story.
> 
> Woody Harrelson's phenomenal gay character, on why he owns a boat in New York:  
> "I live in Jersey, and I ain't takin no ferry... unless it's out to dinner and a show! BAM!"
> 
> ***


End file.
